Losing Days
by RatherBeAWriter
Summary: Emily feels like she's losing her grip on reality; her friends don't exactly disagree. They'll do anything they can to help, but could they be missing a more sinister, external cause for her odd behaviour? Some people like to play games. And what better plaything than a bright human mind?
1. Prelude

**A/N: Very short introductory chapter for a longer story idea that I've been toying with. Will involve the whole team and hopefully have a bit more substance/plot than other things I've been writing! Rating as T for now but might become M depending on how dark it becomes. ****Let me know what you think of the intro/idea :) **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Criminal Minds.**

Drip. Drip. Drip. She didn't know where the noise was coming from but it's steady rhythm was oddly comforting. It was slow and constant. Like a clock. Not that time was a concept which made any sense to her anymore. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Minutes passed; or maybe it was hours. The blade on the floor glinted in the light and the splashes and smears of red stood out against the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Was any of it even real?

/  
/

_Several months earlier._

It started on a Tuesday morning. Emily Prentiss woke up with the easily recognisable symptoms of a hangover. Her mouth was dry, her head was pounding and she didn't remember clambering into her bed. Girls' night on a Monday? Whose brilliant idea had that been? As her stomach churned at the thought of moving from her bed she became aware that she had been woken by a ringing phone. She reached over to the bedside cabinet, unwilling to fully open her eyes to the sunlight she knew would be penetrating her room, and retrieved her cellphone.

"Prentiss," she croaked, her tongue feeling fuzzy as it came unstuck from the roof of her mouth.

"Emily?" came JJ's slightly puzzled, but surprisingly perky, voice.

"How do you sound so alert?" Emily groaned.

"Em, are you OK?" JJ asked. "It's already ten o'clock," she added, at her friend's silence.

"What?" Emily exclaimed, sitting straight up in bed and opening her eyes, despite the pain across her temples which was caused by the sudden, intense light. "Sorry, I don't know what happened," she puzzled aloud.

"I managed to stall Hotch – I told him you were at the dentist and must have forgotten to tell him. But I'm not sure he bought it. You'd better get here soon."

"Thanks, JJ," Emily replied, rubbing her forehead as she tried to remember how she had got into such a state. She didn't remember drinking that much.

"If you're that hungover then you should take a cab," JJ instructed with concern. "You probably shouldn't be driving."

"I'll be there soon," she responded, agreeing with her friend that she would phone for a taxi. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let herself get so drunk – not that she remembered much of this time either. Though she was almost certain the combination of Garcia and happy hour had something to do with it!

After a quick shower, a couple of painkillers and a change of clothes, Emily left her apartment and climbed into the back of a waiting taxi, which she had called after ending her conversation with JJ. As she closed the door behind her, she glanced back, sure for a moment that someone was there. But putting the sense of unease down to her hangover and anxiety at showing up so late for work, she turned her attention to the taxi driver and confirmed her destination.

Meanwhile, a young man leaned against the stairs of an apartment building, taking a long draw of his cigarette. He was tired. He'd spent the whole night waiting. Watching. But it had worked. She'd emerged from the building looking dishevelled and confused; it was amazing what one little pill could do. He inhaled again, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sun, as the cab pulled away. Smiling at his success, he stubbed out his cigarette on the wall. It was time to go home; he had so much to plan for.


	2. Last Night

**A/N: So happy to see that people were interested by the first chapter. Thanks guys! :) Hope you enjoy the next one! **

Emily rushed into the bullpen, thankful that the team didn't appear to have a case and were instead sat at their desks completing paperwork. Morgan was the first to see her, and a smirk appeared across his mouth as he raised his head.

"Half day is it, Prentiss?" he grinned, calling out loudly enough for everyone around to hear and glance towards the increasingly flustered brunette.

"I was at the dentist," she muttered, repeating JJ's lie, and vowing revenge on her still smirking colleague. To her dismay, Hotch appeared on the walkway outside of his office with an especially stern look on his face. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that made it clear he wanted to see her. She sighed, placing her bag on her desk before heading towards his office.

"Good luck," JJ whispered, with an understanding and sympathetic smile. She wished she had thought quicker on her feet and provided a better cover story for her friend. The wrath of Hotch was not something anyone should have to face with a hangover.

Though only minutes had passed since Hotch had summoned her, he had closed his office door, forcing Emily to knock and wait for his response. She hoped he'd go easy on her. While she knew it was her own fault, she was feeling terrible and the nausea and throbbing temple, even after the Tylenol took effect, were punishment enough.

"Come in," called Hotch's gruff voice from inside the office and she opened the door, making one more silent wish for him to be in a reasonable mood. "Prentiss," he greeted, not bothering to invite her to take a seat.

"Hotch, I am so sorry," she began, but was prevented from providing an explanation of her tardiness.

"I don't want to hear any excuses. If you have a valid reason for being late then I expect you to let me know at the earliest possible opportunity," he told her sternly. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded, picking at her nails as she suddenly felt like a misbehaving school child.

"And don't get your colleagues to lie on your behalf," he added and Emily hoped that she hadn't also managed to get JJ into trouble.

"It won't happen again. I'm sorry, sir." She stared down at her feet, hoping he didn't have much more to say.

"Just get to work Prentiss," he instructed with a shake of his head before returning to the files that were spread across his desk. She nodded, and quietly made her exit from the room, grateful that her humiliation had at least been brief.

Hotch watched her leave over the top of his paperwork. He knew she'd been out with Garcia and JJ the previous evening and he could forgive his agents the occasional lapse in judgement when it came to letting their hair down; they all worked a very stressful job. But he had no patience for them messing him around or lying to him. Emily was a brilliant agent but he already had one child to deal with at home, and didn't appreciate having to discipline his, supposedly responsible, juniors at work.

/  
/

An hour or so later, Emily was sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on the report in front of her, but she was too distracted by how unwell she felt. She reached for the bottle of water that JJ had placed on her desk while she was speaking to Hotch, and took a sip, in the vain hope that it might ease her nausea. The lights in the room seemed too bright and the glare from her computer screen was unbearable. She pressed the cool plastic of the bottle against her closed eyes, praying for some relief.

"Emily, can you come and take a look at this?" Reid called, without looking up from his own paperwork. His voice seemed to aggravate her headache further, but slowly, she stood up and crossed to his desk.

"What is it?" she asked, wondering how she could possibly assist the boy genius. She leaned on the edge of his desk, not trusting her aching body to support its own weight.

"I just wanted your opinion…" he trailed off as he caught sight of her pale face. "Emily, are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Fine," she lied, attempting a smile through her pursed lips, but Reid remained unconvinced. She closed her eyes against a wave of nausea and the suddenly spinning room. Standing up definitely hadn't been a good idea.

"Emily?" came Reid's worried voice, though she didn't dare open her eyes to see his face. She swayed on her feet and her hand slipped away from its supportive position on the desk. Her eyes reflexively sprung open as Reid jumped up from his seat and steadied her. "Sit down," he instructed, with uncharacteristic authority and directness, as he guided onto his chair. "And put your head between your knees. You're most likely feeling dizzy because of reduced blood flow to the brain and sitting in this position should increase blood flow and prevent you from losing consciousness." There was the Reid she was used to. She followed his directions, aware that their other team-mates had left their desks to see what was going on.

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

"I asked Emily to help me with something but she seems to have suffered a vasovagal episode," Reid explained with a frown.

"I'm just a little dizzy," Emily reassured, keen for her colleagues to return to work before they attracted Hotch's attention. She could feel their eyes watching her closely.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Rossi asked and she shook her head.

"Guys, I'm fine. I just... I don't want Hotch to see." She sat up and gave them a pleading look. Her friends understood and Rossi and Morgan returned to their desks. JJ and Reid remained.

"Why don't we go and hide out in Garcia's lair for a little while?" JJ suggested. She could see why Emily wanted to avoid Hotch's attention, but after her dizzy turn, she knew Emily needed to sit down and relax for a little while. Normally, Emily wouldn't appreciate anyone's attempts to look after her but right now, she was glad of someone providing her with a way out of the bullpen and the stares of its inhabitants.

"Yeah," she agreed, with a nod of her head. "That sounds like a good idea."

/  
/

"Here we go. Tea with lots of sugar. And a sandwich. Because you need to eat, my brunette beauty," Garcia said as she bustled back into her office, her usual mannerisms only just covering her concern.

"Thanks," Emily smiled, accepting the mug and the sandwich and sitting them on the desk beside her.

"Eat!" Penelope commanded.

"Give her a second!" JJ laughed, though she too longed for Emily to do something which might counteract the deathly white glow of her face. Emily picked up the mug and took a drink of the hot sweet liquid; she didn't really feel up to any solid food.

"What happened to you last night?" Garcia asked. "JJ and I are fine and we had just as much to drink as you did." Emily shrugged and shook her head – she couldn't explain it either.

"Did you have anything else to drink when you got home?" JJ asked, trying to think of an explanation. Emily shook her head.

"I don't think so; I mean I don't really remember but I can't think why I would have." Her friends frowned at her apparent lapse in memory. JJ folded her arms and sighed.

"Do you think someone could have slipped something into your drink?" she questioned. It was a frightening thought but explained why Emily was so sick when both she and Garcia were fine.

"I don't know," Emily answered honestly, feeling a little anxious at the possibility. "I got home alright, didn't I?" she asked, suddenly. The others read between the lines of her question and confirmed that she had gone home alone.

"The taxi dropped you off first," JJ assured her.

"And you went straight into your apartment," Penelope added. Emily relaxed a little. Even if her drink had been spiked she knew that was all that had happened. All the same, the thought that she may have been drugged still made her feel uneasy. JJ could interpret the uncomfortableness from her expression.

"Do you want me to take you to a doctor?" she offered. "They could run some blood tests and put your mind at ease." Emily shook her head.

"If I was spiked then it might be undetectable by now. And if not I'll just look like a drunk girl trying to make excuses."

"How about telling Hotch then? You really should go home if you're feeling this bad," JJ pointed out. Penelope nodded in agreement but Emily shook her head again.

"I really don't need Hotch judging me anymore today!" Emily exclaimed.

"Em, it's not your fault if you were drugged," Penelope reminded her.

"_If,_" Emily repeated. "_If_ I was drugged. For all we know I was taking extra shots when you guys weren't looking!" She tried to laugh but it sounded forced. The others remained straight faced.

"At least stay here with Pen where she can keep an eye on you?" JJ asked with a pleading expression.

"Sure," Emily agreed, with a sigh and a small smile. Today, being under Garcia's watchful eye was a far better option than being under Hotch's.

/  
/

"Headaches, nausea, disorientation, dizziness, amnesia." Somewhere across town, a voice read the list of symptoms from a laptop screen, which provided the only light in a dark room. The owner of the voice sighed. Imagining her suffering wasn't as satisfying as he expected. He liked to think of her sitting in her office wondering why she was so unwell. He liked to picture her colleagues judging her for being so hungover in the middle of the week. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to see it; he needed to see it. He needed to see her pain and discomfort and fear first hand. Slamming the laptop closed, he leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily into the darkness. The game needed to move up a level.


	3. Close To You

**A/N: I've been so surprised by the response to this story so far! Thanks for all the follows, favourites and especially the reviews. I love hearing what people think :) **

**A couple of reviewers asked questions that I wanted to answer before moving on. ****bball21 asked about whether this was an Emily/JJ pairing, and it's not. It's going to have lots of close friendship scenes, with JJ and with other members of the team, but no pairings. **

**And rmpcfan, Emily's stalker/tormentor has reasons for targeting her and for what he does, which will be gradually revealed (assuming my writing is good enough for everyone to understand!).**

**Anyway, here's the next chapter. Thanks again for the feedback and I hope you enjoy this one. **

**/  
/**

It was a few days later when the team picked up a case and were called in early in the morning. Emily, in her eagerness to get back on Hotch's good side, found herself driving to the office with plenty of time to spare and decided to pick up some coffee from a nearby shop. She was as familiar with her colleagues' usual orders as she was with her own, and while she was sure Morgan would make some teasing comment about her being a kiss ass, she knew they would all appreciate a caffeine fix.

The coffee shop was quiet, given the early hour and Emily didn't have to wait long to be served. Her large order would however take some time, so she settled herself down at a table near the counter to wait. She pulled out her tablet and began to skim over the preliminary case details which they had all been sent at the same time they well called in. Had she not been so lost in the files and keen to get ahead, she might have noticed the important exchange taking place across the street.

On the street opposite the coffee shop, a young man and a teenage boy stood where the man knew no cameras would catch them. The man pointed out the brunette who was reading by the counter and after being provided with his instructions and a wad of banknotes, the teenager set out to complete his task.

/  
/

Emily paid the cashier and then set about balancing the two trays of coffee cups on top of each other. She glanced at her watch, happy to see that she was still making good time, and turned towards the door. Despite the fact that the coffees partially obscured her field of vision, she was vaguely aware of someone entering the shop. She was momentarily distracted by her purse slipping down her arm and it was in that second that the boy made his move.

As he entered the shop, he had been sure that the rapid beat of his heart would give him away. He'd never done anything like this before; he'd never so much as stolen a candy bar from a convenience store and if someone dropped their wallet in front of him, he would chase after them to return it. But the man in the dark coat had cornered him as he returned from his paper round and told him he needed a favour. There was something about the stranger's eyes that made it clear the important part of the proposition wasn't the money he would be rewarded with, but the silent threat of what would happen if he didn't. So he accepted the cash with a shaking hand, much to the amusement of the unknown man, and agreed to carry out the "favour".

He saw his chance when she turned away from his direction and he stuck his leg out in front of her, closing his eyes as their limbs connected and she fell to the floor. He hoped she wasn't hurt but he hadn't been able to think of another way.

Emily wasn't sure what had happened. One minute she had been on her feet, and the next, she was on the ground, her clothes dripping in the hot coffee which also covered the floor around her. Realising that she was not too badly burnt, she was immediately thankful for the thicker clothes she had chosen for the cool weather.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" asked a teenage boy who appeared in front of her and offered to help her to her feet. "I'm sorry," he apologised, as she took his hand.

"It's OK – I'm fine," she assured him, regaining her composure. In truth, as she continued to drip coffee onto the ground and felt the bruises that were surely developing on her knees, part of her wanted to tear the kid's head off for getting in her way. But he seemed so nervous and apologetic that she couldn't bring herself to give him so much as a stern word. She glanced around at the contents of her purse, which were scattered across the shop floor.

"Let me help you," the boy offered, bending down to pick up some of the items. She gave him a smile of thanks and began to do the same. As he helped the woman identified to him only as a target, he worried that the item he had already concealed in his pocket would somehow reveal itself and that he'd be caught red handed. However, he needn't have worried because as the flustered and embarrassed Emily (a persona she was adopting far too frequently this week) gratefully accepted a handful of her belongings from him, and tossed the last few items into her purse, she was entirely oblivious to the fact that anything was missing.

/  
/

He was practically beside himself with excitement when the boy placed the clinking bundle into his hand. Forcing a calm expression he dismissed the boy with another hundred dollars and a warning to keep his mouth shut. Then he retreated back to his car where he took the stolen item from his pocket and ran his fingers over the metal which had been warmed by his closed hand. Grinning wildly to himself, he was delirious at the knowledge that he would soon be able to unlock the next level of the game.

/  
/

Emily was the last to arrive in the conference room, due to the time it took her to get changed and cleaned up. Even with her efforts, the smell of coffee lingered and she suspected some had splashed into her hair. She was by no means late to join her colleagues but was greatly irritated by the fact that she had gone out of her way to be early only for her morning to go wrong.

"Right, now that we're all here, let's get started" Hotch announced, glancing in Emily's direction. He probably hadn't meant anything of it but the mere thought that she could have further annoyed her boss only added to her rapidly developing bad mood. "Garcia," he continued, motioning to the tech analyst to present the case. Emily leaned forward over the files and papers in front of her and tried to concentrate on what Penelope was saying, but she couldn't help but let her mind wander to how unlucky she seemed to be that week. Had she known then what she would eventually come to experience, the spilled coffee, and even the possibility that her drink had been spiked, would appear the least of her problems.

/  
/

An hour later the team were on the jet, flying to Boston to assist the local police department with a series of murders linked to home invasions. They had already discussed their approach and looked over the details of the crime scenes and of the victims, and were now engaged in various pursuits to pass the remainder of the flight. Emily had her purse emptied across the table in front of her and was trying to reorganise the contents, having simply thrown everything in earlier in the morning so as to leave the coffee shop as soon as possible. She was searching through the spread of items with increasing franticness when JJ finally looked up from her book.

"What are you doing, Emily?" she asked, laughing slightly at her friend's odd behaviour.

"I can't find my keys," Emily muttered, without taking her eyes off her possessions. She turned the purse upside down and shook it, in the hope that the keys had somehow attached to the lining.

"Maybe you left them in the office or your car?" Spencer suggested, as Emily sighed and threw her empty purse into the aisle beside her in frustration.

"No," she shook her head and pursed her lips. I tripped up at the coffee shop this morning and dropped my purse. They must still be there." She sighed again and leaned back in her seat, annoyed that she didn't have her keys before leaving the shop.

"How did you trip up?" Reid enquired, more curious about that than he was about her missing keys.

"What do mean?" Emily snapped and then remembered he'd done nothing to warrant her anger and softened. "Some kid got in my way and I tripped over him. Took the coffees I was carrying for us all with me too," she explained, blushing slightly as she remembered the embarrassment.

"Are you OK?" JJ asked, though she struggled not to smile at the image.

"Just my pride that got injured," Emily laughed awkwardly as she realised that everyone was listening. "I'll call the coffee shop later and check if they have my keys," she added, realising she needed to snap out of her bad mood if she was going to be of any assistance on their case.

/  
/

As the BAU's jet touched down in Boston, back in Virginia, a gloved hand carefully removed a freshly cut key from its mould and held it beside its original for comparison. Happy that the keys were identical, the hand returned the original key to its keyring and placed it into his pocket. The new copy had to be kept somewhere safe; its possession was paramount to his success. Carefully, he drilled a hole through the top and strung the metal onto a long, thin piece of leather, which he fastened round his neck. He glanced at the clock. Perfect. Her neighbours would all still be at work.

/  
/

"So you're sure they didn't slide under the counter?" Emily asked, pressing her cell to her ear with one hand, while exasperatedly running the other through her hair. "OK, thank you for checking," she continued when the coffee shop owner confirmed that her keys were nowhere in the shop and had not been handed in. "I'm sure they'll turn up somewhere. Thanks again. Bye." She ended the call and placed the cellphone back in her pocket.

"No luck?" Morgan asked, exiting the precinct and joining her just as she hung up.

"No," she shook her head.

"You've got a spare set, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, Garcia has a set so she can feed Sergio when we're away and Hotch keeps a spare set for me…" she trailed off at his puzzled expression.

"After Doyle, I was a bit paranoid about safety," she explained. "I didn't want to leave them with a neighbour that I didn't know." He nodded in understanding and regretted prying. While he considered Emily a close friend, she was also a very private person. "We should get going to the first crime scene," she stated after a brief pose, keen to jump back into work.

They arrived at the victim's house after a short drive and while Emily, as she ducked under the yellow tape to examine the scene, was mostly focussed on her work, there was a niggling thought at the back of her mind that wouldn't let go of the mystery of her vanishing keys.

/  
/

He checked the coast was clear before he crept up the stairs to her apartment. He'd never expected this part to be so much fun; the fun was supposed to be in watching how she was affected. But as he turned his specially replicated key in the lock and heard the door click open, his adrenaline was rushing and he felt high on the excitement. He closed the door behind him, confident that he hadn't been seen and his eyes widened at everything that spread before him. This was her home and these were all her things. He had all the access he needed to her life and the only question now was where to begin.

It took him about half an hour of opening drawers and running his gloved hands over her possessions before his mind could focus on the task he had planned. Cameras. He had to set them up where she wouldn't see. One in the kitchen, which covered the living area as well. One in the bathroom. And one in her bedroom; he smiled as he hid the third camera within a light fitting – now he'd know if he succeeded in playing with her dreams as well as her waking moments.

The cat eyed him with distrust and malice as he made his way around its owner's home. He'd take care of it one day. Just not yet; a dead cat would be far too obvious at this stage. He had to pace himself.

"See you soon," he whispered to the creature as he slipped out of the door, placing Emily's keys in the lock as he went and leaving no visible trace of his visit.

/  
/

The team were in the precinct's bullpen, delivering a preliminary profile to the local police. Hotch was just finishing up when Emily felt her cellphone buzz against her leg. She glanced towards her boss and he nodded, giving her permission to take the call. Quickly, she stepped out into the corridor and saw her neighbour's name flashing across the screen.

"Mrs Taylor," she answered, surprise evident in her voice. "Oh, right," she continued, with equal surprise as the reason for the call became evident. "Thank you and thanks for letting me know. I'll collect them when I'm back. See you then." Still a little bewildered, Emily ended her call and rejoined her team.

"Everything alright?" Hotch asked, as Emily returned to the room. The local police had dispersed to get on with the various tasks involved in catching the UNSUB and only the BAU team remained, congregated around a desk at the front of the room.

"Yeah," Emily nodded. "My neighbour was just letting me know she had my keys," she informed her boss, and all of her waiting colleagues.

"Where were they?" JJ asked.

"In my door. On the outside," Emily replied slowly, still puzzled by how she had left them there. "I could have sworn I put them in my purse," she added, screwing up her face and shaking her head.

"Losing your mind there, Prentiss" Morgan laughed and Emily returned a grin, though after her memory lapse surrounding Monday night and now the events surrounding her keys, she couldn't shift the feeling of unease which was making its home in the pit of her stomach.


	4. You've Got A Friend

**A/N: Thank you all again for the reviews, follows and favourites! To answer the questions I was asked, there are not going to be any pairings in this. I love the friendship/family dynamic of the team in the show so am just trying to go with that. Also, there won't be any sexual assault. There are other reasons for the bathroom/bedroom cameras that will become clear! **

**This chapter is a little more people looking out for Emily than trying to break her down so it might seem a little slower. More drama is coming soon though! **

**Hope you like it and let me know what you think :)**

The week that followed their return from Boston was strange and unsettling for Emily. She would return home from work to discover that the milk was in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge, or that she had left the TV on all day. While she could have sworn she had tidied things into their proper place and turned everything off before she left for work, the reality she came home to told a different story. The nausea and disorientation she woke with on two separate occasions didn't help matters. While she hadn't felt as bad as the morning after her night out with JJ and Garcia, and the headaches were far more manageable, she certainly did not feel well. She supposed the repeats of her symptoms ruled out having her drink spiked as a cause, but given the circumstances that did not bring her any comfort.

On this particular day she had stayed late at the office. Somehow when she was surrounded by her work, she didn't feel so much like she was losing control. However, the bullpen was mostly deserted by now and she was exhausted as a result of an evening of online research into her unusual symptoms. The sleepless night that followed had taught her Google was not the place to go if she wanted reassurance. At the sound of someone clearing their throat, she glanced up from her notes on the Boston case, rubbing her tired eyes as she did so.

"Hey, I thought you'd gone home," she said, as her gaze met Spencer's.

"Not yet," he replied. "I'm on my way out but I wanted to speak to you first," he continued, rocking back on his feet as an awkwardness became visible in his body language.

"What's up?" Emily asked, feigning ignorance, though she had a pretty good idea of what the young agent wanted to speak about. She had heard the whispered conversations and seen the concerned looks exchanged among her colleagues over the past few days.

"Is everything OK?" he asked quietly.

"Fine," she responded quickly, pretending to be surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You've been unusually quiet this past week," he explained. "And you've been distant - I haven't seen you join JJ and Gracia for lunch or coffee for over a week now."

"I've had a lot of work to do," she shrugged. He paused for a second, trying to read her expression and decide whether he believed her. He wasn't convinced.

"Emily," he began, carefully choosing his words. "I think something's wrong; no, I know something's wrong. I care about you and I'm worried." He stopped again to wait for her reaction. Reid was by no means shy but he would have preferred to avoid this kind of direct confrontation. On the other hand, he would forever be haunted by his memories of "losing" Emily to Doyle and the first sign that something was wrong in that situation had been when she became withdrawn from the team.

Emily watched Spencer carefully as he spoke. His brow creased with lines of worry, which she hated to see on his youthful face, and his measured voice contained traces of pain and fear. JJ had told her how hard he had taken her "death" only a year earlier.

"Spencer, I really am OK," she assured him, with a smile that she hoped was more convincing than her earlier attempt.

"But something's wrong," he pressed.

"I just haven't been feeling well this week," she replied. Well, it wasn't really a lie.

"Have you seen a doctor?" he asked, the question sounding all too familiar to what she had asked him when he told her about his headaches. The proximity of that conversation to her disappearance only reminded him further that history gave him grounds to be concerned by her recent behaviour.

"No," she shook her head. "But I will if I don't feel better soon," she assured him. He nodded, accepting this answer.

"You should really go home and rest," he pointed out. "If you're sick then the last thing you should be doing is working so late."

"I didn't say I was sick; I'm just a little run down," she insisted.

"Even so, you should be trying to get at least eight hours of sleep – that's how long the immune system requires to recover. And you should be eating properly." He glanced at the packet of potato chips on her desk – the only thing she had eaten all day – and frowned.

"Yes, Doctor," she replied, nodding with fake sincerity. When the corners of his mouth didn't so much as turn up at her attempt at humour, she relaxed her expression into a reassuring smile. "Reid, I'll go home as soon as I finish this. And I'll have a proper dinner and an early night. OK?"

"OK," Reid nodded, though his concerns hadn't been fully addressed. He turned to leave but then hesitated and opened his mouth to speak.

"Go home, Spencer, and I'll see you in the morning," she encouraged him softly. "I promise I'm not going anywhere." He nodded again and returned her smile, albeit weakly.

"Emily, just remember that I'm here if you need anything." He stared at her with that pained look of worry etched firmly into his features.

"I know," replied, simply and quietly, wishing she could say something that would put him at ease. This was exactly why she didn't want to involve the team in whatever was going on with her.

After Reid left, Emily returned her attention to the files and notes spread across her desk. Even her own handwriting blurred under her tired gaze. The office around her was quiet and the only real light came from the lamp on her desk and the glow from behind Hotch's office door. It was getting late, even for her boss, and she knew it wouldn't be long until he emerged to leave and ordered her to do the same. Eager to avoid another talk like she'd had with Reid, she pre-empted his departure and packed up her things, turning off the light with a sigh as she accepted she would have to finish her work at home. At least it would provide a distraction from another night of worrying.


	5. The Wine We Drink

**A/N: Second update in one day because I already had this section planned but thought it worked better as a separate chapter from the last. Back to the creepiness now! Enjoy! And, as always, thank you for reading and the reviews, favs and follows :)**

He couldn't believe his luck when she placed those files on the kitchen table. He'd been excited enough to see her return home; she'd been late and he'd worried she might have been out of town. He wasn't sure what he'd do to entertain himself next time she was away on a case. But despite his initial fears, tonight was shaping up to be the best yet. She had gone straight through to the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. He grinned as she did so, knowing that the bottle was laced with the same drug he had used that first night. He watched as she sat at the table, sipping her wine and attempting to get on with her work. He could see she was already distracted and knew that with every sip her mind would become cloudier, until she eventually fell asleep. And then he'd be able to pay her a visit. The adrenaline rush he'd get from being so close to her was just what he needed after a long day of waiting, and the added bonus of being able to interfere directly with her work was too much to resist.

As he waited for Emily to lose consciousness, he thought back to the first time he saw her; to the time he decided she had to be his next subject. She wasn't his first – he'd tried out a few games on some students, with varying degrees of success. But Emily Prentiss was the biggest challenge he'd ever set himself. She had been speaking at a lecture for a criminology class, which one of his earlier subjects attended, and had immediately grabbed his attention. She was clever – that much was obvious. But unlike the younger women he'd gone after she had so much confidence and self-assurance in the way she carried herself. He'd watched her as she enthralled her audience with witty anecdotes of her time working for the BAU and knew right then that she'd be prefect. Intelligent. Pretty. Confident. Everything he admired and everything he despised. Breaking her would be an enormous task but it would be the most fun he'd ever had.

/  
/

Emily's head began to swim ten minutes or so after she sat down to work. Maybe she should have taken Reid's advice and had a proper meal instead of the wine. She knew she should be taking better care of herself but the truth was she had no appetite. She tried her hardest to concentrate on the words on the page in front of her but her eyes wouldn't seem to focus. In frustration, she stuffed all the papers into the cardboard file and abandoned it on the table. Picking up her glass, she headed over to the sofa and threw herself down. She was so tired, both from the long day at work and from whatever was happening to her. Taking a large gulp of wine, she glanced around the room, wondering what it was that felt off. That was when she noticed the absence of her ever-present, furry friend.

"Sergio!" she called, trying to remember the last time she saw the cat. She stood up, starting to worry about his whereabouts. Could she have accidentally let him outside or forgotten to bring him in? Her question was answered by a tapping sound at the window. Immediately, she crossed the room, stumbling slightly as she did so, and opened it. Sergio jumped straight in, dripping from the rain that poured outside. She could have sworn he gave her a hurt look as he darted past and settled himself on his favourite armchair. "I'm sorry, baby," she slurred, surprised at the sound of her own voice. Suddenly feeling very unsteady on her feet, she collapsed back down on the sofa, dropping her almost empty glass to the floor.

As his owner's eyes closed and her limbs fell limp, Sergio jumped onto her lap. He meowed loudly, as if to warn her that something wasn't right, but she simply groaned slightly and tried and failed to move her hand to stroke his damp fur. It was to Emily's great detriment that he was the only creature aware of the stranger who would soon be in her home once again.

/  
/

He slipped into her building and up the stairs to her apartment with the skill of thief. Avoiding her neighbours had become second nature to him. His heart raced as he turned the key in the door, well aware that she lay asleep inside. He had waited until he was absolutely sure she was out cold before entering the building. After all, this was the biggest risk he'd ever taken.

Quietly closing the door, he crept through to the room where she slept and stopped only a few feet away from her. It was so strange to be so close. He could see every line across her furrowed brow and every twitch of her mouth as she dreamt. His cameras were good but they weren't this good. His attention was suddenly drawn from the sleeping woman to the two green eyes, which gazed up at him from her lap. He scowled at the cat, wishing she hadn't let it into the apartment before she passed out. Sergio began to hiss at the unwelcome intruder and the man was alarmed by the noise in the otherwise quiet room. She was drugged but that didn't mean she wouldn't wake.

"Serg…" she mumbled, realising his worst fear. He froze on the spot, willing the cat to quieten, but Sergio continued hissing loudly and stood in a defensive position. Emily dragged her heavy body upright and gazed directly at him, though her eyes were hazy and unfocussed. He could see the jolt of alarm spring through her body as she saw him. "Wha… Who?" She tried to stand, her fight or flight response a strong counter force to the effects of the drugs. Eventually, she staggered onto her feet, though she had to lean heavily on the sofa and couldn't hold up the weight of her head.

"It's OK, Emily. You're just having a bad dream. Lie back down," he soothed, in a sudden burst of inspiration. He stepped towards her and, extending one gloved hand, tilted her chin to face him. He smiled, gently and reassuringly. "Lie down," he repeated. She hesitated, the drugs slowly beating her adrenaline, and then her legs gave way. She tipped to the side, falling like a dead weight into the corner of the coffee table. He felt panic rise as she lay on the floor with a bleeding wound at the side of her forehead.

"That wasn't meant to happen," he muttered, shaking his head agitatedly. He watched her for several minutes, anxiously pacing back and forth and rubbing his hands together. Then he took a deep breath and remembered his original plan. He crossed the room to the kitchen table and slipped the file into his bag. For good measure, he poured the remainder of the bottle of wine away and sat the empty bottle by the sink. "Stick to the plan, stick to the plan…" he repeated, like some kind of mantra. Before leaving the apartment, he paused to press his fingers to her neck. A warm sense of relief spread through his body as he felt the steady beat of her pulse. "See? No harm done," he breathed, both to himself and to Sergio, whose eyes didn't leave the intruder until he had closed the apartment door and made his escape.


	6. In My Head

**A/N: Took me a little longer to figure out this chapter but once I did it kind of kept going so I hope you like a slightly longer update!**

**Thanks again for favouriting, following and all the kind reviews. Black Tulip, thank you for reassuring me that cats can actually get defensive. As a dog person, I took a few liberties in the last chapter in assuming that cats could also show a little loyalty!**

**Anyway, I decided it was finally time for the team to force themselves in to help Emily. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**/  
/**

The few hours that followed until morning seemed to stretch for an eternity. By the time there was anything to see he was sleep deprived and agitated. He'd spent the dark hours of the night pacing his small room, watching the screen for any sign of movement. She wasn't meant to get hurt. Not physically. Not yet. As he downed an energy drink, hyping up his already fragile nerves, he muttered to himself about what had gone wrong. And then, suddenly, his attention was captured by the appearance of two blonde women in her apartment and his muttering came to a halt.

/  
/

When Emily didn't answer her calls, JJ decided she wasn't taking any chances. She phoned Garcia and told her to meet her at their friend's apartment. They were soon outside, with JJ hammering on the door as loudly she would if she were at a suspect's house.

"Emily, open up or we're coming in!" she shouted, Garcia's spare key in her hand.

"Yeah Em, you'd better do as she says – even if you're hiding some secret hottie in there!" Penelope added, trying to keep the mood light, despite her growing concern for her friend.

Inside, Emily began to regain consciousness at the sound of their voices but she did so too slowly for the worried and impatient women and soon she heard the sound of the key in the lock.

"Emily?" JJ's voice called, as they entered the apartment. It didn't take her long to reach the living area and her friend. "Oh my God! Emily!" she exclaimed at the sight of the dark haired woman, sitting on the floor and slumping back against the sofa with dried blood on her forehead.

"What happened?" Garcia gasped, as the two women joined Emily on the floor.

"I don't know," Emily replied, groggily. She wasn't yet thinking clearly enough to compose a believable explanation.

"I'll get you some water," Garcia offered, unsure what else to do or say. She scurried across the large open plan room towards the kitchen, clocking the empty wine bottle as she filled a glass from the tap.

"Do you remember hitting your head?" JJ asked, helping Emily into a more comfortable position on the sofa as Garcia returned. Emily shook her head and sighed. Her lip quivered as she replied.

"What's happening to me?" she asked quietly, looking from one friend to the other with wide, frightened eyes. JJ, taking a seat beside her, placed her hand comfortingly on Emily's arm.

"Everything's OK," she soothed, though no one in the room was convinced.

"Sweetie, were you drinking last night?" Penelope asked gently, reluctant to broach the subject but knowing that it was important.

"I poured myself a glass of wine when I got home but that's all," Emily replied, already becoming defensive.

"I saw the empty bottle by the sink," Garcia continued slowly.

"That's not right," Emily shook her head, pain radiating across her temples at the movement. She tried to remember the previous night. She'd come home and poured herself a glass of wine and then she'd started to work. But she'd been tired so she sat down and then… "Sergio," she thought aloud. He'd been outside and then they'd both been sitting on the sofa, just like she was now. And he'd been hissing. Why was that? She screwed up her eyes as she tried to think.

"Sergio's just over there on the armchair," JJ pointed out, assuming Emily had been questioning her pet's whereabouts.

"No, I'm trying to remember. He was hissing at something last night and then there's nothing until you two arrived. Why can't I remember?" JJ and Garcia exchanged a look, which did not go unnoticed by Emily. "I'm not a drunk!" she exclaimed, brushing JJ's hand away from her arm.

"Em, we didn't mean to offend you," JJ quickly assured her.

"We just want to help you," Penelope added.

"Then believe me when I tell you I only had one drink," Emily muttered, outwardly adamant that she was telling the truth, while internally, she doubted her own recollection.

"But the bottle…" Penelope began, voicing her thoughts without considering whether she should do so.

"I can't explain it!" Emily snapped. "And it's scary enough that I keep blacking out and forgetting things without the two of you thinking I have some kind of drinking problem." She held her head in her hands and stared down at the bloodstains on the rug while JJ and Garcia contemplated her outburst. Cautiously, JJ placed her arm around Emily's shoulders and, when the brunette didn't pull away, gave her a reassuring hug.

"We'll figure this out," she assured her friend. "Right now we need to get you checked out at the hospital." Emily opened her mouth to protest but JJ gave her a stern look that told her there was no arguing. "You just woke up on the floor with a head wound and can't remember what happened – you can't just ignore that."

"OK," she agreed quietly.

"Good," JJ replied, giving Emily a small smile in an attempt to reassure her that everything was going to be OK. "I'm just going to give Hotch a call to let him know none of us will be in. Pen, why don't you help Emily get cleaned up a bit?" she suggested, realising that Garcia, feeling lost about what to do, was simply standing awkwardly in the centre of the room and staring at the dropped wine glass and the blood on the floor.

"Sure," Penelope agreed with a smile, but her bubbly demeanour had been substantially weakened by her increasing concern.

/  
/

Hotch was already in his office, settling down to work, when JJ called. While it was still earlier than their contracted hours stated, he'd found it odd that none of the female members of his team had arrived. Hotch was used to seeing his team at their desks by this time so the phone call was not entirely unexpected.

"Is everything all right?" he asked almost as soon as he answered his cell.

"Not really," came JJ's reply. She was in the corridor outside of Emily's apartment but still felt the need to keep her voice down. It wasn't that she was going behind Emily's back to Hotch but she needed to tell their boss the truth and she wanted to do so without further distressing her friend.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worry evident in his usually calm tone.

"Garcia and I are at Emily's apartment. She's fallen and hit her head and we're going to take her to the hospital," she replied, giving Hotch the bare bones of the situation.

"What happened?" he asked, running his fingers over his furrowed brow. JJ sighed heavily at the other end of the line.

"I don't really know," she admitted. "She doesn't remember; she might have been drinking. But she claims she only had a glass of wine."

It was Hotch's turn to sigh. He knew something was wrong with Emily and she'd looked hungover several mornings over the past couple of weeks. But it seemed so out of character and her odd behaviour had seemingly developed out of the blue.

"What do you think?" he asked JJ, valuing her opinion.

"I honestly don't know," she replied, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair. Emily wasn't a big drinker and her mental state seemed far more fragile than to have been caused by alcohol alone. But at the same time, it would certainly explain her changed behaviour and lapses in memory. "She's scared, Hotch. I've never seen her like this."

"Just look after her," he instructed, noticing that JJ was struggling with the situation as well. "Make sure she knows we're here no matter what's going on."

"I will," JJ nodded, though of course Hotch couldn't see. "And I'll let you know anything we find out at the hospital."

"Thanks, JJ," he said, glad that Emily wasn't alone. He paused, reluctant to say what came next. "Make sure they check her blood alcohol at the hospital."

"Hotch…" she sighed, wanting to protest against the idea.

"JJ, I know it seems intrusive but it's better to know either way."

"I know," she agreed, though she hated the feeling that she was being distrustful of one on her best friends and the feeling that she was somehow betraying Emily didn't leave her as she re-entered the apartment and re-joined her friends.

/  
/

Emily tried to be patient with her doctor but the more he poked and prodded at her, the more she irritable she became. For what felt like the tenth time since she arrived in the emergency room, he shone his penlight into her eyes and asked her to follow it.

"You don't appear to have a concussion," he frowned, as he slipped the device back into the pocket of his lab coat.

"Is that not a good thing?" she muttered, dryly. She had a headache, she was embarrassed and she wanted to be left alone.

"Well, yes," he began. "But a concussion would have provided us with some explanation of your lapse in memory and period of unconsciousness. I'd like to do a CT scan to be on the safe side. And I'd also like to run some blood tests," he added, remembering that one of his patient's blonde friends had mentioned the possible involvement of alcohol in her accident.

"Is that really necessary?" she sighed, regretting allowing JJ and Garcia to bring her here. "Can't you just stitch up my cut and let me leave?"

"Miss Prentiss," he addressed her directly and with a reassuring smile. "It's important we get to the bottom of what's going on with you. I promise I'll be as quick as I can."

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly, leaning back against the pillows on the bed in acceptance that she'd be there a while.

"Good," he nodded. "I'll get the tests organised and I'll be right back." He left the room, and for the first time that morning, Emily was left alone to contemplate the mess which she seemed to have found herself in.

/  
/

JJ felt terrible as she and Garcia sat side by side in the hospital waiting room. Garcia, sensing her friend's self-loathing, placed her hand on JJ's knee and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"You had to tell him," she reassured. "Her doctor needed to know that possibility."

"I all but accused her of having an alcohol problem," JJ sighed, shaking her head. "And I hate myself for doing it but…"

"But you have your own doubts?" Penelope completed. JJ, turned her head to the side to face the other blonde.

"Am I a terrible friend?"

"No," Penelope shook her head assertively. "You, Jennifer Jareau, are the best friend she could have right now. This doctor is going to run tests and speak to her and then we'll know what we need to do for our girl. Hiding things from him would only have got in the way of that."

"Thanks, Pen," JJ smiled weakly, still not entirely convinced. "I just hope Emily sees it that way."

/  
/

"So there's nothing physically wrong with me?" Emily repeated. She was too surprised and confused by the results of her tests to feel relief that she didn't have a brain tumour or any of the other terrifying conditions the internet had suggested.

"No, none of the tests I've run show any physical explanation for your symptoms," he explained, once again. He gave her a look that told her to hold still; he was in the process of attempting to numb her head wound for suturing. She did as she was told and then winced as she felt the sting of the needle and burn of the local anaesthetic.

"So what is wrong with me?" she asked. There had to be some explanation. The doctor paused in his work to look his patient in the eye.

"Your symptoms could be explained by a psychological condition," he answered, carefully choosing his words; he wasn't a mental health specialist and he didn't want to get it wrong.

"So I'm just crazy then?" she muttered.

"Not crazy – we're not really a big fan of that word these days," he smiled. "You have a stressful job and hectic lifestyle – that can take a toll on your mental health and it's just as important to address those issues as it is physical conditions." He returned his attention to her wound. "Can you feel this?" he asked, gently touching the edge of the cut before he began suturing. She gently shook her head in response and he continued.

"So what do I do now?" she asked, chewing her lip and picking at her nails.

"I've referred you to an excellent psychiatrist who will be able to diagnose your condition more accurately and start treatment. You'll be back on your feet before you know it, Miss Prentiss." He gave her another reassuring smile, which she gave her best attempt at returning.

Soon, the doctor had finished with her wound and left her while he signed her discharge papers. As she changed from the hospital gown into her own clothes she considered everything the doctor had said. She had never thought of herself as depressed or stressed, or of being at risk of any other mental health problems, but she supposed that kind of thinking wasn't entirely uncommon. Of course she worried about what the rest of the team would think; they all saw the same things and worked the same hours, so why was it that she was the one who had apparently been affected? And the loss of control she was experiencing still scared her but at least now someone had offered an explanation and there was hope. Maybe she would be OK after all.

/  
/

JJ and Garcia were incredibly relieved to see Emily when she appeared in the waiting area.

"Are you OK?" Garcia gushed, jumping to her feet and enveloping Emily in a tight hug.

"I'm fine," she reassured her friend, slowly freeing herself from Garcia's arms.

"How's your head?" JJ asked, standing back and feeling a little awkward. She could tell from the way Emily looked at her that she was annoyed.

"Fine," she replied shortly. "My blood alcohol level was zero, by the way. That'll save you going straight to my doctor again," she added, her words more venomous than she had intended. She knew JJ would have had good intentions in mentioning the wine bottle to the doctor but that didn't stop her from being a little hurt by her friend's apparent lack of trust. As long as Emily was doubting herself, she needed to know that her friends had complete faith in her.

"Emily…" JJ began, a genuine look of remorse on her face.

"JJ, I don't want to fight. I just need to be pissed off with you for a while. I'm tired – just take me home?"

"Of course," JJ agreed, hoping Emily would be more forgiving after some rest.

Penelope was still anxious to find out exactly what was going on with her friend, but thought better of pressing the matter while she was still so defensive. So the three women left the hospital in silence and Emily was left to quietly consider everything she had discussed with her doctor. "I'm not crazy," she kept telling herself over and over again. But what if she was?

/  
/

"Can I help you, sir?" a nurse asked the man who had spent most of the day sitting quietly in the corner of the waiting room.

"No, thank you," he smiled, looking up from the outdated magazine he was reading. "I was just waiting on someone; I'll be leaving soon."

As soon as the nurse had disappeared from sight, he rose from his chair and exited the emergency room as quietly as he had entered, and with the fragments of his latest plan coming together in his mind.


	7. Broken

**A/N: This chapter is a little weird. I'll just put that out there right at the start! It's an attempt to show how Emily is feeling so it might be confusing in places. It also took me ages to write. Though that was possibly because I spent far too long researching things for this chapter and the next few!**

**Thanks again for taking an interest in this story and letting me know what you think. Reviews are always so helpful for writing the next chapter :)**

"Emily, take a seat," Hotch greeted his agent, with a somewhat awkward smile, as she entered his office. Without a word, she slipped into the chair in front of his desk. It had been a few days since her trip to the emergency room and that morning she had endured her first appointment with Doctor Riley. All she wanted to do now was go home and sleep but instead she had to speak with her boss about taking some leave.

As she sat down he noted her tired appearance. He was so used to seeing her dressed for work; she was always so smart and professional. Today she was dressed in a pair of leggings and an old misshapen sweatshirt. Her hair was scraped back and revealed her pale, make-up free face. In the brief moment when she looked up to face him, he became aware of the dark shadows that surrounded her hazy eyes.

"How are you?" Hotch asked, though it was evident Emily wasn't in the mood to talk.

"I'm OK," she shrugged. "Though my shrink doesn't seem to agree," she added dryly. "Apparently I need to take some time off."

"That seems like a good idea," Hotch nodded. From what he had seen, and what he had heard from JJ, and from Emily herself, it certainly seemed to be the case that she needed some time to address the issues she was dealing with.

"So can I consider myself signed off for the next few weeks?" she muttered, barely glancing up from the floor. She hated that Hotch, or anyone at work for that matter, had to know any details of her personal life.

"Take as long as you need," he told her kindly.

"OK," she replied quietly, standing to leave in her eagerness to keep the already uncomfortable meeting as brief as possible.

"Emily, I'd like to think we were friends as well as colleagues; just let me know if there's anything I can do." He hated to see her looking so fragile and uneasy – that wasn't the Emily that he knew.

"Thanks" she replied, but didn't slow her progress towards the door. Hotch wanted to say something reassuring but couldn't seem to find the words and was also very much aware that Emily didn't want to be around anyone. He just had to hope she was getting the help she needed and that, in time, his feisty, confident agent would return.

/  
/

Emily left without speaking to anyone else and headed straight home. Exhausted, she kicked off her boots in the hallway and lay down on top of her unmade bed. The crumpled sheets and duvet beneath her felt uncomfortable against her back but, standing up to fix them felt like too much effort. She'd hardly slept since she returned from the hospital. JJ and Garcia had wanted to come up to her apartment and make her something to eat. They'd tried to insist upon it, but her own insistence that she wanted to be alone had been stronger. So she'd thanked them and quickly slipped out of the car before they could further object.

And then she'd spent the next few days splitting her time between her bed and the sofa, trying and failing to sleep. The time of day became irrelevant; all she cared about was managing to close her eyes for an hour or so at a time. Occasionally she'd venture to the kitchen and try to eat. She'd nibble at a piece of toast or make some eggs and eat a few mouthfuls, before feeding the rest to Sergio. At least leaving her apartment for her doctor's appointment and to see Hotch had broken the cycle. Her appointment with Doctor Riley had been a blur in another day of anxiety and sleep deprivation but certain moments replayed in her head as though she was watching footage of someone else's life.

_"You must be Emily," the young doctor had smiled, welcoming her new patient into her office. Emily had nodded and followed the woman into the room, nervously perching on the edge of a sofa when she was instructed to take a seat. "How are you feeling?"_

_"Tired," Emily replied, glancing around the room which screamed comforting and safe, but still failed to help her relax._

_"You've not been sleeping?" the doctor asked. Emily shook her head. "I see in your notes that you visited the emergency room earlier this week – would you like to tell me about that?" _

_"Not really," she had mumbled under her breath, but then with some encouragement and prompting she had slowly discussed her fall, and her memory lapses and all her other symptoms. The appointment passed quickly, though in reality she had been there for over an hour. _

_"You'll be back to your old self before you know it, Emily," Doctor Riley had smiled, as she scribbled out prescriptions and organised appointments._

Emily's eyes were drawn to the bottles of pills which now sat on her bedside cabinet. Antidepressants to calm her down and slowly fix whatever was going on in her head. Stronger painkillers to deal with her headaches, which could apparently get worse before they got better. And some sort of low dose sedative to help her sleep. Oddly, the bottles and their apparently transformative contents made her think of the bottle and the cake in Alice in Wonderland. Drink me. Eat me. And then some magical change will take effect. She chuckled darkly to herself as she remembered a quotation from later in the book: _"we're all mad here"._

She sighed as the buzzing of her cellphone interrupted her thoughts and wondered who it would be this time. Her collection of unanswered messages was growing and she knew it wouldn't be long until her friends started showing up at her door instead. She was surprised to see this message was from Spencer; he never texted, always preferring a phone call or to wait until he saw someone face to face.

**Emily, I'm worried about you. I know you think you want to be alone but maybe that's not what you need. Please, call me. Spencer. **

Her lips curled into a brief smile at the thought of him actually making use of his cellphone and squinting through his glasses to compose and send the message. And then she felt guilty at the thought of the lines of worry which would undoubtedly be marking his face. She didn't have the same tendency that the others did to treat Reid like a child, but at the same time she always felt a certain protectiveness towards him. He'd been through so much with his mother's illness and his own fears of developing schizophrenia, and she couldn't bear to think of him now struggling with the matter of her depression. _Her depression_. The phrase still jarred each time she tried to use it, even just in her own thoughts. "_You are not depressed"_, the little voice at the back of her head tried to argue, but nobody else seemed to agree.

And why would they? She was withdrawn, on edge and forgetful. She wasn't the Emily Prentiss that they knew; she could barely even see herself in the quiet and jumpy person she had become. Broken. That was the only way she could describe it. Doctor Riley had tried to use some kind of analogy to describe the malfunctioning chemicals in her brain but it didn't seem to accurately capture how she felt. The Emily she was familiar with was broken and something had to have caused that.

_"But you're not depressed"_, repeated the voice, which sounded a lot like the Emily she could recognise and remember.

/  
/

Emily's description of herself was identical to that applied by the man who watched her. He had done it; she was broken. He watched her closely after she returned to the apartment. The flicker of a smile which appeared as she glanced at her cellphone died on her lips and her expression was permanently fixed somewhere between fear and despair. There was none of that self-confidence which had first caught his attention, and her supposedly clever brain had no idea what was going on. Even her beauty was muted by the lack of sleep and weeks of worry and confusion.

"Broken," the single word slipped from his lips like some kind of sacred uttering.

As the days progressed, the buzz of his success was all that kept him going. While Emily being at home, and struggling with the most basic functions of sleeping and eating, was indicative of his achievement, it meant there was a lot more to be observed. And it was exhausting trying to keep up with it all. Not to mention the added complication of getting into her apartment when she was almost always there. Still, he had some ideas and there was work to be done.

Emily Prentiss may have been damaged but she was so very far from hitting rock bottom. There were obstacles to overcome, but also fun to be had, and once again he simply had to up his game. And then no one would be able to piece her together again.


	8. You're Not Listening

**A/N: Thank you as always for all the reviews of the last chapter and for the follows and favourites. rmpcmfan, I also imagined Spencer being the one to figure out that something else was wrong or question her diagnosis so I decided they should have another conversation before anything else happens. And CambrianShale, you might be onto something there... **

**Anyway, it's time the team start pushing their way in. Emily needs a break! Hope you enjoy a slightly lighter chapter. I can't promise it'll last!**

Spencer waited impatiently for the water to boil. He had already lined up the mugs, each containing one of the herbal tea bags he bought as part of the "care package" Garcia had suggested he bring. He was the only person Emily was willing to see. On the day she had visited Hotch, and then crossed the bullpen without uttering a word to anyone else, he had sent her a text. It had taken him ages to word and even the finished message hadn't said exactly what he wanted it to. So when she hadn't replied he'd shown up at her door. Of course she'd ignored him at first but he knew she was on the other side listening, and he'd told her that he could wait all night if he had to – he'd done it before, with his mother.

He'd known that mentioning his mother would get some sort of response. She'd either feel guilty for making him relive traumatic memories or she'd simply not wanted to be labelled as being the same kind of crazy as her. Sure enough, Emily had opened the door and, if somewhat reluctantly, she had invited him inside. And in the two weeks that followed, he had been dropping by almost every day after work. And there was one thing he was sure of: Emily was not depressed. Something wasn't right; she might even have been sick in some other way. He was by no means an expert, but the way her face lit up, however briefly, when he managed to distract her from her situation did not suggest to him someone who was depressed. And it had been so sudden. One day she was fine and the next she wasn't. Growing up with his mother, and now regularly visiting her at the sanitarium, he was surrounded by mental illness and his instinct told him that something else was going on with Emily.

"You know I could have made the tea? It is my apartment," Emily remarked, with the ghost of a smile playing on her pale face as she joined him in the kitchen.

"You were falling asleep," he pointed out as he poured the water into the mugs. "This is a blend that I was reading about. It's supposed to have calming properties. And it's perfectly safe to drink with your medications. I double checked that."

"I bet it tastes great too," she remarked sarcastically. How she missed strong black coffee. On the recommendation of her psychiatrist, and Reid and his infinite supply of facts on the subject, she had given up caffeine and alcohol. It was supposed to be helping her sleep through the night and not black out; it didn't.

"This one doesn't smell nearly as bad as the last. And Garcia actually drinks this stuff," he explained, as though that would make the drink miraculously more appetizing. "Sit back down and I'll bring them over." After making a face at the prospect of the latest coffee replacement, she did as she was told and took a seat on the sofa.

"Have you thought any more about what I suggested?" Spencer asked, sitting the mugs on the coffee table and taking a seat opposite Emily. She immediately began to pick at her nails and stared at her feet.

"I thought about it but I can't face seeing another doctor. Doctor Riley is one of the best in Virginia. If she thinks I'm depressed then maybe I am," she sighed.

"I know she's good and I can see why she came to that conclusion but I think there's more going on. When I was having my headaches I saw a lot of good doctors and none of them managed to diagnose me correctly. This guy is meant to be better than the rest. And he's not so busy that he'll just palm you off with antidepressants and sedatives." He knew he was being pushy but he hated to think of Emily being misdiagnosed and pumped full of unnecessary drugs.

"I'll keep him in mind, Spencer, but Doctor Riley didn't just palm me off – I'm still seeing her and I think I should at least try to do what she says. For a while at least. If I'm not doing better in a few more weeks then I'll look elsewhere." She knew Spencer was only trying to help but she was too exhausted to start travelling half way across the country to see some super doctor that he had heard about. Reid looked disappointed but nodded and changed the subject.

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows as if to indicate the ridiculousness of his question.

"Same as always," she shrugged, rolling her eyes. "But I think I managed a full hour between three and four."

"You could take the sleeping tablets," he suggested and was met with another raise of her eyebrows.

"I just don't think it's a good idea when I'm still having these random black outs. I thought you wanted me off the chemicals anyway?" she replied.

"You can't go on without sleeping properly. That has the potential to cause many physical and mental health issues," he frowned.

"Maybe the tea will help," she said teasingly, as she lifted the mug to her lips and screwed up her face. Intending to prove that she was being difficult, he took a drink from his own mug. It took everything in his power not to spit it out again. "Good, huh?" Emily smiled, a slight glint in her eyes, despite the dark circles and the paper like quality of her tired, pale skin.

"I think it's time we went for a walk," Reid suggested, raising his eyebrows and giving her a grin, instead of answering her question.

"Do we have to?" her voice grew serious again and she visibly withdrew and pulled her feet up onto the sofa beside her.

"It's good for you to get some fresh air," he reminded her. The only point with which he agreed with Doctor Riley was that it didn't help Emily to be cooped up alone in the apartment. "We could even meet JJ and Garcia if you feel up to it? They're desperate to see you."

Emily had forgiven JJ for speaking to the doctor behind her back and she had responded to some of the texts her friends had sent but she was yet to see them in person. Since she hadn't experienced any lapses in memory or dizziness today, she decided it was as good a day as any to bite the bullet. Plus her phone had been ringing every hour or so since six o'clock that morning, so leaving the house might actually give her some peace and quiet.

"Fine," she agreed. "But the minute I'm back to normal you're going to pay for being so bossy."

He looked a little alarmed at her threat, despite knowing she was joking; Emily could be scary when she wanted to be. It was unlike him to be as pushy as he'd been with her. He'd only taken charge like that once before and that was regarding his mother's treatment and institutionalisation. Once again making the comparison with his mother made him sure that his friend was not mentally ill. And until she, and everyone else around them, accepted that, he'd continue to bring her herbal tea and force her to go out and remind her that she was still the woman they all knew and loved. And that she didn't have to face anything alone.


	9. We Believe

**A/N: I'd already written this chapter before the last one so I was desperate to get it edited and uploaded. Bit longer and a bit more going on in this one. Thanks as always for the support. I'm definitely keeping ideas from the reviews in mind :) **

He'd had to wait; he'd had to observe and plan. But he'd become accustomed to her new routine. At first, he was annoyed by the young colleague who visited almost every day. But soon he realised it meant she would regularly be leaving her apartment and that meant easier access. So he'd been able to continue with rearranging her belongings and occasionally lacing her food or drink with sedatives or whatever else he could get his hands on. His only problem then had been his lack of interest in watching her black out. That wasn't to say he didn't enjoy her confusion and fear upon waking. But it was all getting a little old.

The phone calls had been a stroke of genius, even if he did say so himself. He'd posted her number in several newspapers and shop windows, accompanied by advertisements for all kinds of services and products for sale. He'd also paid some kids to make prank calls. It was harmless to them; to him and to Emily it was a whole new level of torment. Multiple calls at all hours of the day and night. And as the days passed she became more agitated at each ring of the phone. He even made a few calls of his own – why should the kids get all the fun? Listening to her alternately loose her patience or become increasingly alarmed by his heavy breathing more than made up for the frequent presence of Spencer Reid in the apartment.

/  
/

On this afternoon, over a week since the phone calls began, Emily had already answered three calls. One looking for a Chinese restaurant, one who seemed convinced she was his ex-wife and one where, yet again, she was greeted with nothing but an eerie silence. When the phone rang again, she swallowed the last of her water and slammed the glass down on the table.

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded, after snatching the phone from its stand.

"Em, it's JJ," came the puzzled response from the caller.

"JJ, I'm sorry," Emily sighed, dropping down onto the sofa and grimacing at her mistake.

"It's OK. Are you all right?" JJ responded, concern evident in her voice. Emily was about to tell her that she was fine but thought better of it. Her mouth was dry, she felt sick to her stomach and her eyes were becoming heavier and heavier. She had promised the team she wouldn't push them out and she was pretty sure this was exactly the kind of thing they wanted to know about.

"Actually, I don't think I am," she admitted, quietly.

"What's wrong?" JJ asked, after a brief pause caused by her surprise at Emily admitting to being anything but fine.

"I'm not feeling well. Side effects of the medication," she explained, wondering if she'd made the wrong decision.

"I'll be right over," JJ replied, without missing a beat.

"I didn't mean for you to do that," Emily quickly responded, not wanting to put her friend to any trouble. "Spencer will probably be round later anyway."

"Emily, I really don't mind. And you need to let us help you out from time to time."

"OK," she agreed, reluctant to be a burden but also relieved that she wouldn't have to spend the afternoon miserable and alone.

/  
/

On her way to Emily's apartment, JJ stopped to get a few items for her friend. Between Reid and Garcia, she was sure Emily had all the necessities taken care of, but JJ decided she'd get some soup and flowers, as well as some magazines and things to keep Emily entertained. She knew that if she was in Emily's position she'd be struggling to find things to do by now.

She arrived at Emily's apartment about an hour after speaking to her. JJ had the day off but Reid would probably be finishing at work by now so it wouldn't be long until he arrived. As she knocked on the door, she thought about how it would be nice for the three of them to hang out for a while, even if they were there to take care of Emily.

"Emily?" she called, when there was no response. She hammered on the door again with a rising sense of urgency. "Emily!" Her mind began to race with possibilities of what might have happened. Last time she had been in this position Emily had been unconscious on the floor. This time she knew her friend was sick. What if something worse had happened?

Before she knew it, JJ had tossed the flowers and the container of soup on the ground, and was slamming her shoulder into the door. Why hadn't she thought to get the keys from Garcia? It took several tries before she switched to kicking the door and finally, with one well positioned swing, she felt the lock give and the door opened.

"Emily!" she exclaimed as she found her friend and horror spread through her body.

/  
/

After hanging up the phone, Emily had slowly made her way to the kitchen to refill her glass of water. Her doctor had warned her of the various side-effects her antidepressants could cause, but had insisted that Emily persevere. She'd almost got used to the permanent dry mouth and nausea but today seemed particularly bad. As she poured the water from the filter jug in the fridge she hoped that Doctor Riley had also been right in her insistence that the side-effects would ease up after a while.

_"I know it's unpleasant but you'll start to feel the positive effects soon," she had told Emily with a sympathetic smile_.

Emily couldn't help but wonder if she'd feel better more quickly if the steady stream of phone calls she was receiving stopped. In any event, she wasn't entirely convinced the medication was really what she needed – Reid was beginning to convince her about seeking a second opinion. But if she wanted to be declared fit for work at any point in the near future then she'd have to do as her current doctor told her.

As she waited for JJ she turned on the TV, hoping for some light distraction to keep her awake until her friend arrived. She took another long drink from her glass, and then reached for the remote. It felt oddly heavy in her hand and she yawned exhaustedly. Then squinting at the screen, she found herself unable to read the guide, as her eyelids drooped and her sight blurred. Drowsiness was another side-effect, but surely this wasn't normal? A sense of panic shot through her as the remote fell from her hand and she was suddenly unable to move her limbs. Everything, from her heart rate to the speed at which she blinked, seemed to slow down, but her distress was only heightened by the increasing sensation that she was going to throw up. As she lost the ability to open her eyes, she could only hope that JJ would arrive soon.

/  
/

"Emily," she called again, frantically trying to rouse the unconscious brunette. She placed her hand against Emily's cheek and slapped it gently, all the while repeating her name. "Come on Emily," she pleaded," as her friend's head lolled to one side and she received no response. She grabbed her cellphone from her pocket with one hand and dialled 911. As she waited to be put through to an operator she felt for a pulse, her fingers trembling against Emily's clammy neck.

"I need an ambulance! My friend's unconscious and I can't wake her!" she blurted out as soon as she heard a voice answer her call. "Her pulse is slow," she explained in answer to the operator's question, a brief sense of relief at finding a pulse, calming her enough to speak clearly. She observed the sluggish and somewhat erratic rise and fall of Emily's chest. "And she's breathing but that's very slow as well." Her eyes scanned the room for some explanation of her friend's condition. "I don't know what happened," she gushed in a panic. "She wasn't feeling well and she's recently started taking antidepressants." A momentary silence at the other end of the line caused a chilling thought to pierce JJ's mind. What if she'd taken an overdose?

The time that passed before the ambulance arrived was the longest wait for the emergency services that JJ had ever experienced. She knew she should be calling the team to tell them what had happened but she couldn't seem to do anything but monitor Emily's pulse and desperately attempt to wake her. She had just heard the sirens outside when Emily finally stirred.

"Mmmmphh," Emily groaned, weakly trying to make some kind of movement.

"Emily, it's JJ, can you open your eyes?" she asked, her voice quiet and shaking. Emily's eyelids fluttered but she couldn't seem to find the strength to open them. "It's OK; you're going to be fine," she said, trying her best to sound reassuring. "Em?" she continued gently. "Can you tell me if you've taken something? Did you take too much of your medication?"

After a failed attempt to speak, Emily shook her head, unable to make much movement, but enough to get the message to JJ. For some reason that she didn't understand, the blonde felt herself let out a sigh of relief. However, this was shortly lived, as a convulsion, which JJ could recognise from taking care of Henry when he had the flu, jerked through Emily's upper body. JJ barely managed to pull her onto her side before she vomited. She panicked at Emily's apparent inability to clear her own airway. Thankfully, the paramedics had just arrived.

"Quick! Over here!" she shouted helplessly, and was almost immediately pushed aside by the two men who had entered the apartment. She watched fearfully as they worked on Emily, hardly daring to breathe as they suctioned her airway and placed an oxygen mask over her face. It was only when there was a flicker of response in reaction to the medics placing an IV that she allowed herself to let out a breath.

"Ma'am, are you OK?" one of the paramedics asked, crouching beside JJ as the other continued to stabilise Emily.

JJ was sitting on the floor, with her knees bent up against her chest and Sergio curled in beside her, seeking comfort beside a familiar body. Eyes wide with fear, she gazed vacantly towards Emily. She wasn't sure why, but she had suddenly began to share Spencer's doubts over Emily's depression. She knew Emily; the dark haired profiler was one of her closest friends. They were family. And she knew the sort of behaviour that often preceded a suicide attempt. Emily wouldn't have accepted her offer of company if she'd wanted to die; she wouldn't have admitted she was sick and asked for help if she was giving up.

"Ma'am?" the paramedic repeated.

"What? Yes, I'm fine," JJ brushed off his concern. "Just take care of Emily."

"My partner has got your friend covered," he reassured her. "I just want to check on you, all right? You've had quite a shock." JJ nodded slowly, though she wouldn't turn to face him. He gently placed his hand on her arm to turn her around and she jerked away in sudden, unexpected pain. A short, quiet shriek escaped her lips. The medic immediately withdrew his touch and gazed critically at her arm.

"Did you batter the door down?" he asked, piecing together the broken lock and the blonde woman's apparent injury. Again, she nodded slowly, turning to look at her left arm, which hung limply by her side. "What's your name, sweetheart?" he asked, trying to get her talking again.

"Jennifer," she answered, struggling to say anything more as the pain, which she had previously been completely oblivious to, consumed her ability to think.

"Well Jennifer, I think you might have dislocated that shoulder. Can I take a look?" She agreed and he began to examine her shoulder and arm. "Right, I'm just going to put this sling on for you and then you can come along with Emily to the hospital. Does that sound OK to you?" He was treading very gently with her, careful not to upset her any further. When he received the call and heard the words "possible overdose" he'd known it was going to be rough. He always felt for the friends and family who discovered those who attempted suicide.

"She didn't overdose," JJ announced suddenly, as though she had heard his thoughts. "I don't know what happened, but I know she didn't try to kill herself." The medic gave JJ a sympathetic smile as if to show her that he understood how hard it was to think that her friend would do such a thing. "No, I really mean it," she said, shaking her head defiantly as the strength and fierce loyalty to Emily returned. "I know her. I know how she's been acting recently. Something is going on but this is not a suicide attempt." She stood up, taking over from the medic and adjusting the sling herself. "How is she?" she asked his partner.

"She's starting to come round but we need to get her to the hospital," he replied, exchanging a look with his partner which gave the impression they thought both women were crazy.

"Emily, I believe you, OK? We're going to figure out exactly what's going on." She took hold of Emily's hand, careful not to interfere with the IV or pulse monitor, and looked her friend directly in the eye. Nothing seemed to make sense but somehow she knew the barely conscious woman before her was not responsible for her present condition.

/  
/

Spencer's walk quickened to a run and then a sprint as he caught sight of the ambulance outside of Emily's building. He raced up the stairs and beyond the discarded flowers and spilled soup, into her apartment. His eyes met JJ's almost as soon as he entered the busy living room.

"What happened?" he asked, breathlessly, his heart thumping in his chest as a result of the panic and exertion.

"This isn't some kind of depression," JJ replied, not really answering his question but saying exactly what he'd been hoping to hear for weeks. "Something weird is going on."

"It looks like she overdosed," one of the medics supplied, dismissing JJ's response as shock fuelled ramblings.

"No, I keep telling you, that's not what happened!" JJ protested, looking to Reid for support. He looked around the room thoughtfully and his eyes came to rest on the glass of water that sat on the table.

"Maybe she did," he stated, much to JJ's surprise.

"But you don't believe…" she trailed off, stunned at his apparent change of heart.

"No, I don't mean that Emily took an overdose; I mean that she may be suffering from a drug overdose." The occupants of the room all paused as they tried to comprehend the difference. "I've been keeping a record of her blackouts and the last thing she remembers doing, almost every time, is eating or drinking something."

"You think someone's been poisoning her?" JJ exclaimed in disbelief, and then she remembered the morning when Emily first started acting strangely. "What if she was spiked that night? And what if someone's continued drugging her? Could someone really have access to her food and drink?" JJ's thoughts spilled out of her mouth as she tried to make sense of them. Then she and Spencer simply stared at each other and then at Emily, neither of them speaking a word.

"Regardless of what's happened, your friend is very sick. We need to get to the hospital," the medic who sat by Emily's side reminded them, interrupting their thought process.

"Right," JJ started, snapping back to the present moment. "I'll go with Emily to the hospital. Reid, could you..." she didn't even need to finished her sentence.

"I'll call Hotch and fill the team in. We need to treat her whole apartment as a potential crime scene now," Spencer completed.

"OK, keep me updated." JJ followed after the paramedics and Emily as they exited into the hallway.

"You too," Spencer replied. "And remember to get yourself checked over." He indicated the sling which supported her arm. She nodded, assuring him that she would.

And then Emily, JJ and the medics were gone and Spencer was left alone in the apartment. He pulled out his cellphone, and with a deep sigh, pressed the call button next to Hotch's name. He had a lot to explain and he wasn't sure if the others would even believe him. But JJ did and even if they had to do it with just the two of them, they would get to the bottom of whatever or whoever was hurting Emily.


	10. Best Friends And Hospital Beds

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and to everyone else who is following this. 20Waffles20, Rossi and Morgan are going to make their appearance now that the team have something to investigate, and I'll keep that in mind when I next mention Sergio. That cat is working its way into the story far more than I first intended! **

**In case you haven't already noticed all the chapters have song titles as names (I know it's done by so many people but I find it interesting when I'm reading other fics) and I got way too excited at having the perfect one for this chapter!**

**Hope you enjoy the update :)**

_"Why don't you wait outside and get your shoulder seen to?" the kindly blonde-haired nurse had suggested, when JJ had followed Emily and an expanding crowd of medical staff into a trauma room. "You don't have to see all this, sweetie."_

A couple of hours later, a part of JJ wished she had listened. The fingers of her right hand remained tightly gripped around her badge, which she had produced upon arrival at the hospital in the hope she'd command enough authority to be allowed to stay with her friend. Her plan had worked but maybe it would have been better if it hadn't. Maybe there was a good reason to keep non-medical personnel out of the trauma rooms.

She watched Emily sleep as she tried to ignore the increasing pain of her own injury. A blue-black stain marked Emily's lips and the surrounding pale skin. Her deathly appearance would have worried JJ, were it not for the steady rise and fall of her chest and rhythmic beeps from the machines which assured her that her friend was in fact alive. The foam restraints which attached Emily's wrists to the bed seemed unnecessary as she rested peacefully. But it wasn't so long ago that JJ had watched in horror as the brunette thrashed around and fought against the tubes that the doctors were placing down her throat.

_"Can't you sedate her?" JJ had shouted, amongst all the noise and chaos of the room, as she saw the terror in Emily's eyes and helplessly watched on. _

_"We don't know what she's taken so we can't give her any drugs," the blonde haired nurse had explained as she carefully guided a visibly shaking JJ to the side of the room and sat her down on a stool. _

At least all the tubes were gone now. Emily was breathing on her own, only requiring oxygen for support. And now that her stomach had been pumped and the activated charcoal had been forced down her throat, the IV running into her arm was the only interference with her body. She hoped this would be all Emily would ever be aware of from her ordeal.

"Agent Jareau?" a gentle voice called, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned around to see that the nurse had returned. "How are you doing?" she asked sympathetically as she noticed the tears which were still wet around JJ's eyes.

"I'm OK," JJ replied, taking a deep breath and giving the nurse a weak smile. "It's not me that…" she trailed off.

"She's going to be all right," the nurse assured her. "We're just waiting for her blood tests so we know exactly what drugs are involved but she's stable now."

"I know," JJ nodded. "I should phone our team and give them an update." She stood up, intending on stepping out of the room to make the call, but the inadvertent movement of her arm caused an excruciating wave of pain.

"How about you make that call real quick and then we get a doctor to take a look at you?" the nurse suggested, frowning at JJ. With some reluctance, JJ nodded in agreement.

"I just don't want Emily to be alone if she wakes up while I'm away," she sighed.

"Don't you worry about that," the nurse smiled. "I'll be right here with her, and see those tough guys?" She motioned towards two security guards just outside the door. "They'll be sticking around too. So you have nothing to worry about."

"Thank you," JJ smiled, with a little more conviction than her previous attempt. While she was still reluctant to leave Emily's side, at least she had the assurance that no one would be able to harm the sleeping agent while she was away.

/  
/

JJ's cell began to ring as she made her way to a quiet spot outside of the hospital doors. She answered immediately, seeing Reid's name flash across the screen.

"Spencer, how's it going?" she asked, skipping the nicety of any proper greeting.

"We just ran some field tests on the contents of the water jug in Emily's fridge and got a positive for GHB," he replied, with the same urgency. He, Hotch, Rossi and Morgan were currently stood around Emily's kitchen table, watching as a team of CSIs combed over her apartment and tested the contents of her fridge and cupboards.

JJ's only response was a deep sigh. She closed her eyes for a second and bit down on her lip.

"How is she?" he asked, the others observing him intently in order to gauge JJ's answer.

"She's stable," JJ informed him, hearing his sigh of relief. "She's asleep just now but the doctors think she's going to be OK." Her colleagues didn't need to hear all the details, especially not when they had a job to do.

"That's good," he replied. "And how are you? Have you had your shoulder looked at?"

"I'm just going to do that. I promise." She could practically see the frown that would have developed on Spencer's face and the stern look that Hotch would be wearing.

"Hotch says to make sure that you do," he replied and she couldn't help but smile. "Morgan and I are going to come to join you at the hospital."

"I'll see you soon and I'll let Emily's doctors know what you've found out." She ended the call and took a deep breath before heading back inside. If nothing else, they now had very convincing evidence that Emily had been drugged.

/  
/

Emily knew she wasn't in her apartment when she slowly began to regain consciousness. Low voices drifted around her and, even without opening her eyes, she could tell it was a lot brighter than her living room. It took her a moment to register the soft beeping noise which provided a constant beat in the background of her thoughts. The smell of disinfectant and the stiffness of the sheets which covered her confirmed that she was in a hospital. Drowsily, she tried to reach up to push her hair out of her face but found that something prevented her arms from moving that far from her side. In confusion, she blinked hard and forced her eyes open.

"Emily?" came Reid's tired and worried voice as soon as light flooded her pupils.

"Welcome back, Princess," Morgan's smiled, his voice sounding stronger than Reid's but still with an edge of concern.

Emily tried once again to move her arms and looked towards her two colleagues for an explanation as she was again prevented from doing so. A nurse appeared in her field of vision before they could respond.

"There we go. We don't need these anymore," the nurse smiled as she freed Emily's wrists from the soft restraints. Emily was still confused but glad to have a full range of motion again. She pushed the loose strands of hair from her face and turned towards Reid and Morgan. Even that simple sequence of movements felt exhausting and she couldn't find the energy to open her mouth and speak.

"You were in danger of hurting yourself when they were trying to treat you," Morgan explained in response to Emily's puzzled expression. She nodded once to show she understood, as her tongue ran over her dry lips.

"Do you want some water?" Spencer asked at this first sign of discomfort. He immediately reached for a plastic tumbler, complete with a straw, which sat beside her bed. He had personally taken responsibility for pouring the water; he knew he was being paranoid but they still had very little idea of who had been drugging Emily and how it had been achieved. She nodded again and he helped her sit forward slightly and held the cup to her mouth. She took a few small sips, surprised to find that swallowing was painful. "Your throat might be sore for a while," Spencer informed her, as he eased her back down against the pillows.

"Why?" she croaked, her voice barely more than a whisper. It was so unlike Spencer not to give full explanations and his evident reluctance to do so made her feel uneasy. He looked to Morgan for support; not wanting to explain the details of Emily's treatment because that would necessitate telling her that she'd overdosed on sedatives as a result of someone lacing the water in her fridge with GHB. And looking at the usually strong agent lying weakly in her hospital bed, he couldn't bring himself to cause her more distress. Inevitably they would have to but he wanted to hold off as long as possible.

"It's just from the treatments they gave you in the ER," Morgan assured her. "You gave us a scare Prentiss," he added, changing the subject. "Pretty boy here, hasn't recovered yet," he grinned, trying to lighten the mood in the room, but no one else smiled.

"Spencer?" Emily pressed, her voice barely audible but her eyes pleading. He sighed, realising she wasn't going to let the matter drop.

"Emily, I need you to remember that you're going to be all right and that you're safe, OK?" he asked, before beginning. She nodded, though she was puzzled by his words. Why would she not be safe? "You're in the hospital because you ingested a large amount of sedatives, which both interacted with your medication and caused an overdose."

"I didn't…" she began, ready to protest that she hadn't tried to kill herself. She vaguely remembered someone else asking her about that.

"I know you didn't mean it," Reid interrupted, encouraging her to save her strength. "The water in your fridge contained GHB," he continued. Her eyes grew wide with surprise and concern. And then her mouth fell open as she realised what Reid was hesitant to add. The blackouts and the mysterious sickness suddenly made sense.

"Someone's been drugging me?" she gasped, the sudden intake of breath catching in her already painful throat. Both Reid and Morgan reached out to reassure her as she choked on her breath and felt panic course through her veins.

"It's OK; we're going to get this bastard," Morgan told her, his face and expression unusually serious.

"And your doctors don't anticipate any lasting physical damage," Reid added, trying to relax his worried expression into a reassuring smile. "Up until this point it's likely you've only been dosed with moderate amounts, and the doctors managed to successfully treat the overdose. You've had your stomach pumped and they gave you activated charcoal to prevent any more of the drug being absorbed into your body."

Emily winced as she tried to adjust her position in the bed and considered everything Spencer had said.

"You'll need plenty of rest and fluids but then you'll feel better," he assured her, with another attempt at a smile. She sighed, leaning back against the pillows and watching her colleagues' expressions in an attempt to assess how they were feeling. She knew only too well how difficult it was to wait by a team member's hospital bed.

The three profilers fell into silence as they tried to read each other but this was soon interrupted by a voice from the edge of the room.

"Is this a private party or can anyone join?" Rossi said, appearing in the doorway with JJ just behind him. "Good to see you awake," he smiled, taking a seat at the other side of Emily's bed from Reid and Morgan.

"Yeah, Em, don't do that to us again," JJ joked, though her smile didn't reach her eyes.

"JJ, what happened?" Emily asked, her voice still quiet and weak, but now filled with concern as she nodded towards the sling which supported her friend's arm.

"Just a little accident," JJ assured her, shrugging off the fact that she was injured. If she could avoid recounting the story of how she had to break down the door to reach her unconscious friend then she would. "You're the one that we're worried about," she continued.

"I'm fine," Emily insisted in her quiet voice, which prompted much eye rolling, sighs of exasperation and smiles from her friends. No matter what happened, some things would never change when it came to Emily, and her resolve to deny pain or discomfort or even fear was one of them.

"Where's Garcia?" Reid asked, noticing the tech analyst's absence and knowing that she had been desperate to see Emily.

"She's helping Hotch with something," Rossi replied, without giving too much away. Reid caught the brief look that the older man gave him, when Emily wasn't looking, and knew not to ask anything more. He and Hotch had obviously discovered something that they weren't quite ready to share with their recently wakened colleague.


	11. The One That Got Away

**A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating. I've had no laptop or internet access for a week, which in theory I thought would be relaxing but became annoying very quickly when I wanted to write! Still, I've got lots of ideas now and know exactly how the rest of this fic is going to go. So updates should be quicker again :)**

**Anyway, thanks as always for the reviews, follows and favourites. And please let me know what you think of this chapter. I don't think I've ever written a full chapter on the investigation type side of something before but since no one reading this can see how I imagine it in my head I thought I'd better write it down! Hope you like it :)**

He'd watched with great interest as the events of the afternoon played out. It had all been rather dramatic, with her blonde friend bursting into the apartment and then the paramedics arriving. He hadn't intended on her overdosing; one day it might have been a convenient way to finish her off, but not today. He hadn't expected her to drink so much of the water but at least he'd been provided with a show.

It was only when her teammates began to snoop around that his enjoyment of the show turned to a feeling of unease. As the apartment filled with FBI agents and state police, he began to pace up and down his dark room. His heart rate quickened as the crime scene investigators dusted the surfaces for fingerprints and test the food and drink in her kitchen.

"They'll find the drugs but they won't find you," he reassured himself, though the franticness with which he paced increased by the minute. "You were careful; you wore gloves," he muttered, shaking his head. He lit a cigarette, his hands twitching agitatedly and struggling to operate the lighter. Inhaling deeply and then blowing a steady stream of smoke into the air, he repeated his own reassurance in his head. _They will not find you._

And then the face of a moustached man appeared in the frame which had once hosted a view of Emily's bedroom, and he dropped the cigarette in fright.

/  
/

Hotch had decided that Emily's apartment should be torn apart to find any evidence that could lead them to the person responsible for landing his agent in the hospital. Technically, they had no jurisdiction over the matter, and he had no authority, but she was one of their own and the local police were happy to accommodate the BAU's presence and instruction. While Reid and Morgan set off for the hospital, he and Rossi stayed to assist with and direct the search. Rossi, along with a few police officers, had been assigned her bedroom. The relatively small room was overcrowded and the officers and agent only seemed to be getting in each other's way as they eagerly searched the room for any evidence of an intruder. It was only because of chaotic room, and Sergio darting from his hiding place under the bed and finding himself under Rossi's feet, that he became aware of a small red LED glowing from the light fitting.

"Damn cat!" he cursed as he overbalanced and fell flat on his back on the floor. One of the young police officers smirked but remembered the seriousness of the situation and straightened his expression.

"Do you need a hand, sir?" he asked, perfectly seriously and with no intended disrespect.

"No, I do not," Rossi insisted, angry that the officer seemed to think him an old man. "I can manage perfectly well by myself and you…" he trailed off, and the officer was spared his rant, as the light came to his attention. "What's that?" he queried aloud, as he quickly got to his feet and climbed onto the bed for a better look. He reached up for the object and pulled it down, a look of surprise and horror developing as he realised what it was. "It's a camera," he stated as everyone in the room turned to see his discovery.

/  
/

The other cameras were soon found, and Hotch quickly contacted Garcia, in the hope that she would be able to trace where the feed was being sent. He was almost certain that their UNSUB would know that they were onto him but it was worth a shot – it was the only lead they had. He and Rossi remained in Emily's kitchen while Garcia worked her magic. A heavy silence hung in the apartment as they each contemplated their discovery. Whoever was behind this had had complete access to Emily's live for goodness knows how long. It was unsettling to say the least, to think that she'd been under round the clock surveillance without knowing anything of it.

"Got it!" Garcia exclaimed suddenly, her voice transmitting from the open laptop and ending the quiet. "The feed is still streaming and the location is… Oh my God!"

"What is it?" Hotch demanded.

"The feed is streaming to somewhere in the apartment building just across the street from Emily's. I'm sending you the exact address."

Hotch and Rossi looked at each other in surprise – they weren't expecting the video stream to be live and they especially didn't expect the UNSUB to be in such close proximity. Although once they had taken a second to process the information, it seemed to fit that an individual so desperate to watch Emily as to place cameras around her apartment would also want to be physically close to his victim.

"Thanks Garcia. We'll get a team over there now," Hotch informed her. "I need you standing by in case we find anything for you to look at."

"No problem, sir. Just make sure you stay safe," she pleaded, not wanting to see anyone else hurt and knowing that they were more likely to be aggressive in their approach when the matter concerned one of their own. The nods she received in return were the closest to an assurance that she would ever receive. "Garcia out," she ended the video call.

/  
/

Hotch pulled together a team from the officers who had been assisting them at Emily's apartment. They stood outside the door of the apartment they had identified as the location of the computer receiving the video stream, wearing their bullet proof vests and with their weapons drawn.

"FBI, open the door!" Hotch shouted as he hammered on the wood. When there was no response he nodded towards the officer holding the battering ram. After a few slams the door swung open and the officers and agents stormed in. One by one they cleared the rooms, until a police officer called them through to the bedroom.

"You need to look in here!" he shouted. Whereas every other room of the apartment looked uninhabited and held no obvious trace of their UNSUB, the bedroom contained the still functioning computer equipment and a large pin board covered in photos of Emily and handwritten notes.

"He's been following her for months," Rossi commented as he took in the variety of pictures in which a change of season was evident. It was disconcerting to see so many covertly taken pictures of their colleague plastered across the wall and their resolve to track down the person who was responsible was only strengthened.

"He must have watched for a while before he made any other move," Hotch added, as his eyes came to rest on a picture of Emily with JJ and Garcia in a bar.

"And now he's slipped away," Rossi frowned, frustrated that their lead seemed as though it was about to go cold. Hotch's brow creased as they considered their options.

"I'll get Garcia to go through the computer – maybe she'll be able to find something to help us build a profile. We need to approach this like any other case," Hotch responded. "And can you make sure the whole place is dusted for prints?" he added, directing the question to one of the police officers. The officer nodded, but no one expected to find much physical evidence when the UNSUB had been so careful in Emily's apartment but had effectively led them here. Still, they couldn't let go of any possibility to identify their friend's tormentor.

/  
/

He wandered the park and the streets surrounding their apartments until the wind and rain stung his cold, exposed face. All the bustle and chaos of the day had finally calmed down and the only sign that anything had changed were the police officers stationed outside of both apartment buildings. As if he was so inexperienced as to return.

"They will not find you," he muttered for the umpteenth time that evening, as he slid into his car and pulled the door closed, immediately grateful for the shelter from the elements. He noted how the weather seemed apt, given the day he had experienced. It was tumultuous; almost agitated. But it would calm eventually and so would he. Then he'd be ready to make his next move. He would have to be patient but he wasn't giving up this easily.

From the safety of his car, which he parked far from the police presence, he produced a notepad from under his coat and began to furiously scribble his ideas across the paper. Emily Prentiss was going to die and that was the only outcome he would tolerate. She wasn't getting away that easily.


	12. For Reasons Unknown

**A/N: This chapter is kind of JJ centric but there are good plot based reasons for this and for just about every detail of this chapter. Also I can't resist the opportunity for a JJ/Will/Henry scene. But again, there's a reason for bringing them in. I promise! **

**Anyway, thanks once again for all the support with this fic. Love to see that people are reading and (hopefully!) enjoying it! :)**

The team had left Emily's room to let her rest – the previously kind nurse had been quite insistent on the matter – but they refused to stray further than the waiting room at the end of the corridor. Garcia and Hotch joined them after many hours spent trawling through the recordings made from the video stream, which Penelope had managed to retrieve. While their UNSUB was as careful as always to hide his identity, the recordings confirmed that he had been entering Emily's apartment, lacing drinks from the fridge with drugs and messing around with her belongings. It was no wonder Emily had appeared as though she was losing her mind. Most disturbingly of all, they had seen the footage of Emily's face-to-face encounter with him on the night she fell and hit her head. It appeared that Emily had no recollection of the incident but it was clear that he had been right beside her, even touching her. Garcia had felt sick to her stomach at the thought.

No one felt much like sleeping but after they had discussed all that they had discovered they began to fall asleep. They couldn't do anything else until morning and they needed to rest. However, sleep would not come to JJ. As the early morning light broke through the untidy blinds at the window of the waiting room, she was the only one to be found awake. It wasn't that she was more concerned than the others – they were all equally worried for their friend and desperate to track down the man who had hurt her. Instead, JJ was being kept awake by an increasing sense of unease which started as they discussed the details of Emily's case and began to formulate a profile. She couldn't put her finger on what was wrong but she didn't like how she was feeling. As soon as a nurse informed her that Emily was awake, she visited her friend, hoping it would settle her mind.

"Hey," JJ smiled as she entered the room, relieved to see that some of the colour had returned to her friend's face and that she was sitting up. "How are you feeling?" She took a seat beside the bed.

"Better," Emily answered, managing to return a small smile. "I heard you got into a bit of a fight with my door," she continued, attempting to displace the attention from herself.

"I like to think that I won," JJ chuckled, attempting to keep the tone light and downplay the incident. "Though your locks were stronger than I anticipated!"

"I can see that" Emily nodded towards the blonde's shoulder. "Does it hurt?"

"It's not too bad," JJ assured her. "Hurt like hell when they fixed it though. I can tell you now that if I ever dislocate anything again I am not toughing it out without pain relief!"

"I'd say that's probably a good plan," Emily responded with a slight laugh. "Thank you," she added, turning serious. "From what my doctors told me I wouldn't be here if you hadn't called for the paramedics so quickly."

"I'm just grateful that I was there," JJ replied, pursing her lips and shaking her head once. She sighed, feeling a renewed sense of relief, as she compared the outcome to what could have happened.

"Me too," Emily agreed. Lines of worry and evident distress appeared across her face as her mind was flooded with thoughts of the person who had stalked and drugged her. He was still out there.

"We're going to find this guy," JJ stated was somewhat false confidence, easily reading the brunette's expression. "And we're going to make sure you're safe until we do."

"I hate being the victim," Emily sighed with a shake of her head.

"I know," JJ replied, her expression understanding and sympathetic. "But it won't be for long."

"You don't know that," Emily muttered dryly. JJ didn't disagree – she knew it could take time to catch the individual in question.

"I was thinking you could stay with me for a while after you're discharged," she offered. As she'd sat awake, with only her growing sense of disquiet to keep her company, she had been met with an even fiercer desire to protect her friend."Will and I tend to work alternate shifts so that one of us is home for Henry, so there would be someone there most of the time. Unless you want to go home that is?" she added, careful not to trap Emily if she wanted to be alone. Emily immediately shook her head.

"I don't want to go back yet," she answered fearfully.

"OK, then," JJ smiled, giving Emily's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'll give Will a call and ask him to make up the guest room."

"I don't want to put you to any trouble and I can't stay away from my apartment forever," Emily backtracked, not wanting to become a burden and feeling uncomfortable with her newly acquired status of someone requiring looking after.

"Emily, it's no trouble," JJ firmly reassured her. "And you don't have to go back, or stay on your own, until you're ready." Emily nodded, silently thanking her friend and accepting what she had said. "Besides, as soon as you're up to it you can repay us with your excellent babysitting services," she added with a grin.

"Consider it a deal," Emily laughed.

"Good. Now get some rest and I'll come back to check on you later." JJ rose from her seat and gently patted Emily's leg before she left the room.

"JJ, is something wrong?" Emily stopped her, realising JJ had hardly made eye contact since she entered the room. "You seem a little off." She also hadn't failed to notice her fellow profiler's overly cheerful attitude – she'd been cracking too many jokes and the smile on her face seemed permanently strained.

"Everything's fine," JJ replied, acting as though she was surprised to hear the question. "Just a little tired."

"Then maybe you should get some rest too," she suggested.

"I will," JJ responded with another unconvincing smile. Whatever was bothering her was not something which had been eased by the reassurance that Emily was recovering.

/  
/

"Daddy, is Grandma and Grandpa staying?" Henry asked, as he watched his father struggle with the sheets on the bed in the guest room. As far as he was aware, the room was only used when his grandparents came to visit.

"Not today, buddy," JJ answered, appearing in the doorway and ruffling her son's hair. She had returned home and come straight upstairs to find her husband.

Will instantly clocked her distressed expression but decided not to question her with Henry in the room.

"You need a hand there?" she laughed, momentarily distracted from the deep-set uneasiness, as her husband pulled the sheet over one end of the bed, only for it to slip off the other.

"I think we must've shrunk the sheets in the dryer," he muttered as she came to his assistance.

"We?" she grinned, raising her eyebrows.

"Who's staying?" Henry piped up, saving his father further humiliation.

"You know Mommy's friend, Emily?" JJ answered, the flash of amusement disappearing, and Henry nodded. He liked Emily; she coloured with him when he had the flu and had to stay home from school. "Well, Emily's not feeling very well. She's in the hospital just now and then she's going to stay with us for a little while." JJ hoped Henry would be satisfied with this explanation – she didn't know how to tell the full story in a child friendly manner.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and JJ felt herself let out a quiet sigh. She loved that her little boy was so curious but it could be problematic when it came to matters relating to her work and the types of people that she dealt with.

"A bad man hurt her," Will stepped in, resorting to their default "bad man" answer. Part of him looked forward to the day that they wouldn't have to give such simplified answers to their son, but a larger part of him dreaded the arrival of the moment when his son could comprehend the evil they dealt with. "He made her sick but Momma's team are goin' to catch him and we're all goin' to make Emily feel better."

"Thank you," JJ mouthed to her husband, in gratitude for his quick thinking, as she came to stand behind Henry and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Henry, why don't you go and draw Emily a picture? I'm sure she'd love that."

"OK," he nodded, but paused before heading off to his room. "Mommy, is your arm hurt?" he frowned.

"A little bit. But I'm OK," she reassured him.

"Did the bad man hurt you?"

"No," she smiled comfortingly. "It was just a little accident. Now you'd better get to work on that picture."

Without any further questions, Henry scurried off to his bedroom and JJ let the reassuring, motherly expression slide from her face. Something inside her mind had clicked into place while she had been talking to her husband and son and the reason for her unease was now apparent. Will abandoned the pillows he was placing on the bed and came close to pull her into a hug.

"You doin' all right?" he asked, placing a kiss on her forehead, before pulling away so that he could make a proper assessment of her state.

"Not really," she mumbled, tears pooling in her tired eyes.

"Your shoulder?" he asked, searching for the exact reason for her upset, but she shook her head.

"Is it Emily? Did something else happen?" He pushed her hair from her face in a soothing manner. She shook her head again.

"No, she's doing OK. Or at least as well as can be expected." She took a deep breath and sighed, trying to stave off the tears.

"Then what is it darlin'?" he questioned, taking hold of her hand.

"Will, I really screwed up," she replied tearfully. "I think this is my fault."


	13. Rewind

**A/N: Well, I hope that cliffhanger wasn't too annoying! I had intended on updating yesterday (or I probably wouldn't have done it!) but real life turned out to be pretty busy and I decided a 4am update probably wouldn't have been very well proofread! **

**Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews, from both regular and new reviewers. I love to know what you all think and any guesses you make help me decide which clues or points to focus on. Also, thanks to everyone following (excited to reach the 60 mark!) and reading. I have a few ideas for scenes with the other characters reactions/feelings that could fit in later (particularly an angry Morgan scene) so I'd love to know if that's something you think is a good idea.**

**The quote from the show that's in this chapter is from the end of 2x23 (in case you're a complete geek like me and need to know these things!).**

**Hope you enjoy this update and I hope to have the next one ready soon :) **

**/  
/**

About an hour later, JJ held her phone to her ear and waited on an answer from the person she had called.

"Hotch?" she said quietly as her boss picked up his phone. Her voice seemed unsure and she sounded upset. Will's hand, which rested comfortingly on her leg, gave her a gentle squeeze. They were sat at the kitchen table, where he had forced her to stop to eat something and calm down. She had wanted to call Hotch and get to the office immediately, but he had pointed out that she hadn't eaten since the day before and an hour's wait would only reduce the risk of her passing out at the wheel of her car.

"JJ, what's wrong?" Hotch questioned, registering her distressed tone. "I thought you were getting some rest at home?"

"I was – I'm there just now. But there's something I have to tell you." She paused to take a breath before she continued. "I don't think Emily is this guy's first victim."

"What makes you say that?"

"There was a possible case that came across my desk about eighteen months ago. Hotch, I'm so sorry – I missed it. I thought the mother was just struggling to accept that her daughter had killed herself; I didn't think it was a plausible homicide case. But something's been bothering me for the past day and now I think about it, the circumstances were similar to what's happened to Emily. I need to get to the office to find the file – I can't remember every detail – but there was something the mother said about a webcam in her daughter's dorm room. I thought she was being paranoid and…"

"JJ, slow down," Hotch instructed firmly. "Even if that case is related it is not your fault." His mind thought back to something he had once said to Strauss about his agent. _"Every day, Agent Jareau fields dozens of requests for our team and every night she goes home hoping she's made the right choices." _He'd dreaded the day when something happened to make JJ believe she had made a wrong decision.

"But he could have been out there for a year and a half. He got to Emily. Who knows how many other women he could have targeted in that time? I missed it; I'm so sorry," she apologised again.

"JJ," Hotch began in a firm but understanding tone. "I fully trust any decision you have or will reach. If you decided not to pass this case to us at the time you received the request then that was as a result of your careful assessment of the evidence and circumstances known to you. You have done nothing wrong." He listened to her uncomfortable silence before continuing. "JJ, do you understand me? This is in no way your fault."

"But Hotch…"

"No, JJ. I don't want to hear you blaming yourself or apologising again. You are not to blame. Do I make myself clear?" His tone was probably bordering on aggressive but he needed her to hear what he was saying.

"Yes, sir," she replied, though he could still hear the threat of tears in her voice. His heart sunk at her formal response – perhaps he had been a little too forceful.

"Now I want you to lie down for a few hours and then we will all meet at Quantico and consider the possibility of a connection, along with any other new information or ideas that anyone has come up with, OK?"

"OK," she agreed, finally allowing herself to feel a little relief at his reaction. They ended the call and she turned back towards Will.

"See, I said he wouldn't blame you," he told her softly, glad that Hotch seemed to have reacted in the manner that he had anticipated.

"Hotch told me to get some rest and then I'm going to meet the rest of the team at the office," she said, choosing not to discuss her guilt any further, though it was far from gone. Slowly she stood up from her seat. "I think I'm going to lie down upstairs."

"I think that's a good idea," Will replied, as he too got to his feet. He wrapped her in his arms and pressed his chin against her hair. "What time do you need to be up?" he asked.

"In a few hours." She didn't think there was much possibility of sleep but resting her eyes might do her some good.

"I'll wake you then," he offered, releasing her from his hold with some reluctance.

"Thank you," she replied, giving him a small smile. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now go sleep," he instructed and as she left the room he found himself praying that they solved this case sooner rather than later. He couldn't stand the effect it was having on his wife and the people she considered family.

/  
/

It hadn't taken JJ long to find the relevant file for the case that she believed was connected with Emily's, and she was soon in the conference room, setting out copies for each of her teammates.

"I thought I told you to get some rest," Hotch reminded her, with raised eyebrows, as he joined her in the room. They were the first to have arrived. Everyone had been ordered to leave the hospital to take a shower, get something to eat and sleep a little.

"I did," JJ replied and it wasn't a lie – she had closed her eyes for a couple of hours. "But I had to get here a little early to prepare," she explained, trying to sound more alert and awake than she felt. Hotch decided against arguing with her.

Garcia was on the phone when she entered the room moments later. She had been particularly unhappy at leaving Emily on her own and was currently receiving an update from a rather exasperated nurse who had given up on trying to explain the concept of patient confidentiality to the technical analyst and after her third call, had asked Emily for permission to pass information to her colleagues.

"How is she?" Hotch asked, knowing exactly what Garcia was doing. The blonde felt her face colour slightly as she ended the call and looked up to reply to her boss.

"She's asleep again but she ate some soup about an hour ago, and her doctor is hoping she won't need to be on the IV much longer."

"That's good," Hotch nodded, relieved that her condition was continually improving, and also secretly amused by Garcia's pestering of the staff at the hospital – though he did feel sorry for anyone that had got in the way of the analyst's quest for information.

The rest of the team soon arrived, all still looking exhausted, but also determined to press on. Hotch waited until they were all sat around the table before speaking.

"Thank you all for coming in – I know you haven't had much time at home but some important information has come to light."

"Hotch, do you really think we'd be anywhere else?" Morgan stated, expressing the opinion shared by everyone in the room. Hotch nodded - of course they were only interested in working on the case.

"JJ has discovered a possible connection between our UNSUB and a case which she was asked to consider about eighteen months ago," he continued. "JJ?" he handed the task of providing further explanation to the blonde agent, who was anxiously fingering through the pages of the file in front of her. She looked up at the sound of her name, with the appearance of a deer caught in the headlights of a truck.

"Right. Well, I… I," she stammered. Hotch gave her a nod of encouragement and she took a deep breath, reminding herself that these people were her closest friends. "About eighteen months ago, at the request of the local PD, I met with the mother of a college student who had died in circumstances considered suicide by the police." She relaxed slightly as she fell into the swing of presenting the case to the team. "Lana Saunders was a junior, studying criminology at Georgetown University. She was found in the shower by her roommate during exam time; she had cut her wrists. The paramedics managed to revive her but she died later that night in the hospital. She had spoken to a counsellor at the college about the stress and anxiety she was experiencing so everyone involved was quick to conclude that she had taken her own life. But her mother wouldn't accept it – she believed that someone else had been involved in her daughter's death." She paused to ensure her colleagues were following.

"What made her so sure that it wasn't suicide?" Rossi asked, leafing through the file.

"Mrs Saunders said that while her daughter had been acting strangely, she hadn't seemed depressed." Everyone became more alert and felt a chill as they considered how similar that sounded to Emily's situation. "Whenever Lana came home, her mother could see an improvement in her mental state. She said it was as though whatever was causing her distress only existed when she was on campus. Lana was still anxious and on edge but her demeanour wasn't nearly as alarming as when they spoke on the phone."

"Maybe she just felt happier when she was with her family," Morgan suggested, careful to ensure they didn't force the case to fit with Emily's just because it suited them.

"That's what I thought," JJ sighed. "I assumed she was simply struggling with losing her daughter and wanted to find some other explanation than suicide. But there was another detail which seemed a little strange but which I dismissed, given the other circumstances." She felt a fresh wave of guilt and regret wash over her as she spoke.

"JJ," Hotch pressed for her to continue as he saw her struggling. She sighed and ran her hand through her hair, before looking up from the file to face her colleagues.

"There was a webcam found in Lana's room," she quickly informed them. "It wasn't her roommate's and her mother claimed it didn't belong to Lana. She insisted someone had been watching her daughter; she claimed that it explained Lana's paranoia and anxiety. I accepted the investigating officer's opinion that it was of no consequence; I assumed that it was Lana's or that she had borrowed it from someone else and forgotten to return it. I'm so sorry. If I could go back…" she trailed off.

"JJ, you have nothing to apologise for," Rossi assured her. "You did nothing wrong." He didn't envy the responsibility she had carried while she worked as their media liaison.

"Rossi's right," Reid piped up. "We can't even be certain that there is a connection. It's quite a change in victimology to move from a college student to an FBI agent. And that's assuming that Lana Saunders' death wasn't a simple suicide – the autopsy report found that the wounds were consistent with being self-inflicted." In truth, he had a gut feeling that JJ was correct to make the connection, but he needed to remain scientific and objective in his approach.

"But there's something off with the webcam and Lana's mother's feeling that her daughter wasn't depressed. Come on, we all felt that with Emily," Morgan countered, pointedly.

"And we know that this guy is good at manipulating how situations are perceived – most of the medical and emergency staff involved assumed Emily had taken an overdose. Lana's cuts may have been self-inflicted but that doesn't mean she freely choose to make them," JJ added.

"There may also be some similarities in victimology. Lana and Emily are both dark haired, attractive women, and there is some connection between studying criminology and a job in law enforcement. It could be that the UNSUB is now seeking a greater thrill or challenge," Hotch suggested.

"So we're agreed that this is a direction we need to explore?" Rossi asked and they all nodded in response, before looking to Hotch for further instruction.

"Right then. JJ and Rossi, I want you to visit Mrs Saunders and see if there's anything more she can tell us." JJ felt a sensation of dread settle in her stomach as she considered facing the woman she had turned away many months before. Hotch picked up on her unease. "I know it won't be easy, JJ, but you have met her before; she already knows you and we don't want to waste time building new relationships if we can avoid it." JJ nodded and gave him a small smile.

"It's OK, sir. I don't mind doing this," she assured him. He acknowledged her response before turning to Morgan and Reid.

"You two go to the college and ask around to see if there have been any similar incidents, or if Lana's professors or her counsellor can tell us anything about her mental state or if it was possible someone was stalking her. We may be looking for another student." Morgan and Reid accepted their assignment and began to gather their belongings to head off. "I'll get down to the precinct and speak to the officers who investigated Lana's death. And Garcia?" he added.

"Yes, sir?" she responded, breaking the uncharacteristic silence she had fallen into while the profilers discussed the case.

"I need you to search for any suspicious or unusual suicides involving women that have occurred in Virginia over the past couple of years. Also look out for related or connected reports of stalking or drink spiking around colleges. I know it's a lot, but we have no other way to narrow down our scope at the moment."

"It's OK, sir – I've worked with less before," she assured him, though he couldn't help but notice she was missing her usual spark.

"Garcia?" he said, as she prepared to leave. She turned back to face him. "Set up at the hospital and work from there. I'd like one of us to be with Emily."

"Have I ever told you I love you sir?" she smiled, relieved that she'd be able to keep an eye on one of her babies. She had hated leaving Emily alone and being at the hospital would allow her to keep her friend company, while being constantly reassured that the agent was in fact alive and recovering. Sometimes she really wondered why she chose to work in an environment where those she cared about were so frequently in danger.

"Let me know how she's doing," Hotch replied with the hint of a smile. And as they all set off on their various assignments, he felt a little better knowing that he had managed to, even slightly, lift the mood of one of his physically and emotionally exhausted team.


	14. If I Found Out

**A/N: I love writing and I love a challenge but this chapter just about had me giving up! I knew what I wanted to be revealed in this chapter but couldn't think how to do it. Massive shout out to everyone following, reading, favouriting and reviewing - it's all of you who kept me motivated! So thank you :) **

**bball21, the UNSUB was toying with and drugging Emily for about a bit longer than a month but had been following her for a lot longer than that. And I'm going to leave you guessing about whether that was Lana at the beginning...**

**Hope this was worth the delay while I figured it out :) Next chapter shouldn't be quite so problematic! Let me know what you think :) **

/

Lana Saunders' mother lived just under an hour's drive from Quantico, which was a relief to the team – driving further would only have slowed down their investigation. JJ had called ahead to check that Mrs Saunders was willing to speak with them, as the woman hadn't been happy when she had turned her away before. Thankfully, she agreed and Rossi and JJ were soon on the road.

"Are you sure you're OK?" Rossi asked, after twenty minutes driving in silence. The blonde agent sat in the front passenger seat, leaning her arm against the window, and gazing out at the ever-changing blur of trees outside.

"Fine," she mumbled, without moving anything but her lips.

"Well, I'm not," Rossi said, unexpectedly, causing her to alter her statue like position and turn round to face him. "Someone almost killed our friend – how could we possibly be OK?" He glanced away from the road for a second to look at her pointedly.

"I mean that I'm not any worse than anyone else," she replied, turning back to the window.

"It would be understandable if you were finding this harder," he stated and she ignored him. Rossi meant well, but feelings were not something she wished to discuss on this trip. "You were the one that found her and I know you're still feeling responsible."

"I'd rather discuss how we're going to interview Mrs Saunders," she remarked flatly, though her mind was filled with the faces of the, as yet hypothetical, brunette college students, who had died as a result of her judgement call.

"OK," he agreed, with no sign of resistance and a tone that suggested the conversation was moving on. He had no desire to push JJ if she didn't want to talk. "What approach do you suggest we take?"

/  
/

Just like JJ, Reid was also unusually quiet as he and Morgan drove to the college. Derek pointed this out as they pulled into a parking lot on campus.

"I'm thinking," Reid replied.

"You normally do that and speak at the same time. Whether we want you to or not!" Morgan smirked, trying to elicit some kind of a smile or reaction from his colleague.

"Maybe I feel like thinking quietly today," Reid responded, rather shortly, as he climbed out of the SUV.

Morgan caught up with him as they approached the building in which they were meeting Lana's counsellor.

"You know I'm only teasing, kid?" he reminded his colleague.

"I know," Reid replied. "But we have work to do," he said pointedly, leading the way into the building.

/  
/

"I'm almost certain Hotch didn't mean for you to set up base _in_ my room," Emily grinned, as Garcia tapped away on her keyboard in the corner of the private hospital room.

"But this way I can do my job and keep you company," the blonde woman replied as though hers was the most obvious approach to be taken. She glanced at Emily over the top of her laptop screen. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?" she asked with a frown.

"Not at all," Emily reassured her. She was actually glad of the presence of a friendly face and a little noise in the quiet room. "Are you getting anywhere?"

"Emily Prentiss, this is oracle of the technological highways you are speaking to – what do you think?" she joked, reluctant to concern Emily with the details of the case.

"Really?" Emily raised her eyebrows, knowing exactly what Penelope was trying to do. "I don't need protecting!" She didn't want to lose her temper with her friend but she was fed up with the shared looks and whispered conversations between her colleagues. It seemed like everyone had forgotten that she was still one of them, even if she was also a victim this time. "It's still me," she sighed, giving Garcia a slight smile, in apology for snapping at her.

"Emily, I didn't mean…" Garcia suddenly felt bad – she hadn't realised that her desire to wrap Emily in cotton wool had been causing more harm than good. "You want to see what I've got so far?" she asked, getting to her feet and lifting her laptop from her makeshift work station.

"Thank you," Emily smiled as Garcia sat down in the chair beside her bed and tilted the screen so that they could both see what she was working on. "But if Hotch asks, I was sleeping the whole time you were here!"

/  
/

JJ and Rossi arrived at Mrs Saunder's house within the hour, and sooner than JJ would have liked, they stood on the woman's doorstep waiting for her to answer the door.

"Agent Jareau," she greeted JJ, with a curt nod. The woman seemed older than JJ had remembered, and thinner too. Her tired eyes and troubled expression instantly informed anyone she met that she had suffered some terrible loss.

"Mrs Saunders," JJ responded, fixing a professional and understanding smile on her face. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us. This is Agent Rossi," she introduced her colleague. Mrs Saunders acknowledged him with another nod.

"You'd better come in," she told them, turning her back to the agents and stepping into the hallway. JJ and Rossi followed her towards the living room, where she indicated for them to take a seat in the sofa. "So what do you want to know?" she asked, not in the mood to make small talk with her visitors. "Do you believe me now?"

"Mrs Saunders," JJ began carefully, but she had nowhere to go. The still grieving mother took over.

"During the worst time of my life I came to you and asked for your help. You had nothing to give to me. You wouldn't even consider the idea that Lana had been murdered. But now you're coming to me for help. Tell me, Agent Jareau, how does that come about? How does it make sense that the FBI comes to me looking for assistance, but they couldn't bring about justice for my daughter?" Her eyes never left JJ as she spoke and channelled more than a year of anger and hurt into one calmly communicated monologue.

"The evidence," JJ started, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, as she attempted to recite the justification she had tried to convince herself of. "At the time…" she trailed off and looked up from her feet to meet Mrs Saunders' emotionally charged gaze. "I'm sorry," she said, simply and sincerely.

"What happened to change your mind?" Mrs Saunders asked, barely acknowledging the agent's apology.

"Another case has emerged which bears similarities to your daughter's death," Rossi answered, stepping in, in an attempt to protect JJ.

"Who?" she questioned, directing the conversation back towards the visibly uncomfortable blonde.

"An FBI agent," JJ answered. "But we suspect there have been others." Though she knew it might not have been the most helpful approach, she couldn't do anything but be entirely truthful with the woman in front of her.

"It's different when it's one of your own, isn't it?" Mrs Saunders asked.

"Yes, ma'am," JJ agreed, as Rossi watched in disbelief at the sight of the normally brilliant agent depart from their planned approach, and balance on the edge of professionalism.

"What do you need to know?" the older woman asked.

"Did Lana ever mention having the feeling that she was being followed?" JJ asked, regaining some of her normal composure.

"Yes," Mrs Saunders replied. The woman had appreciated the agent's honesty – she had come across so many cold, hard professionals since her daughter's death and it was refreshing to come across some real emotion. "Let me get her diary for you."

Half an hour later, JJ and Rossi returned to the SUV, armed with Lana's diary and her mother's accounts of her distant behaviour and changes in personality.

"Interesting approach," Rossi commented as they began the drive back to Quantico.

"It worked," JJ replied, readopting her earlier position of staring out the window, but neither of them was under any impression that JJ's attitude had been tactical. She had allowed her emotions to interfere with the job and it was only by chance that the outcome was to their benefit. However, that was a fact which would never leave the confines of the car.

/  
/

It felt like an eternity before Hotch heard anything from the members of his team. He was sitting in what he had been told was an office, but which he suspected was in fact a cupboard. He busied himself sifting through the box of statements and other files relating to Lana Saunders' death, while he waited on the officers who had attended the scene coming off patrol. At some point, when he had begun to think he would be abandoned in the hot and airless room forever, Will LaMontagne had arrived with coffee.

"Thought you might need this," the detective had remarked, as he appeared by the door. "I know JJ is runnin' on the stuff right now."

"I'm keeping an eye on her; on all of them," Hotch replied, before thanking the man for the coffee. He knew Will was concerned for his wife's well-being.

"I know you are," Will responded, and then the unit chief realised the main purpose of the man's visit.

"You can tell her that I'm fine," he assured the visitor, with the hint of a smile as he was reminded how caring his team could be.

"She's not gonna believe it," Will responded, with a knowing smile. "How you gettin' on anyway?"

"I just received a text from JJ and Rossi – they're on their way back with Lana Saunders' diary. But I've not found anything of significance here and I haven't heard from the others." Hotch's normally calm demeanour was showing signs of fraying. Will was sympathetic towards the unit chief's frustration.

"If you need anythin', just yell," he told him. "I'll be in the office upstairs." He'd have liked to stay and help his wife's team in some way, but he had his own case to work on and then had to pick Henry up from school. The coffee run had only been to satisfy JJ's request that he looked in on Hotch.

"Thank you," Hotch nodded.

"I'll make sure and tell JJ that your doin' OK," Will smiled as he left the room and the dark haired man returned to the seemingly useless records in front of him.

/  
/

"Thank you for meeting with us," Morgan smiled gratefully, as he, Reid and Lana's counsellor sat around a desk in a chaotic office, filled with half-dead pot plants, endless stacks of paper and coffee mugs in the process of becoming science experiments. They had politely declined any sort of refreshment.

"I hope I can be of some assistance; I did voice my concerns at the time of Lana's death." The grey haired woman watched the agents over the top of the purple frames of her glasses.

"You did?" Reid asked, in surprise. Hotch had only just been in touch to tell them that there was nothing in the police department's files to suggest anything other than suicide. And that the officers he had spoken to barely remembered the girl.

"Yes, I did. Lana wasn't the only student convinced that she was being followed." She rose from her seat and made her way over to a bookshelf containing more precariously balanced folders and notebooks. "These are all the notes I made during sessions with Lana and with other girls exhibiting similar behaviour and concerns. I showed them to the police; they weren't interested. Not that I blame them – when any mention of mental illness arises, we are only too ready to attribute happenings to the illness without further question." She placed the wobbling stack on the desk with a soft thump and pushed it towards the agents, giving them a small smile. "Now are you sure I can't interest you in some coffee? I'm sure there are some clean mugs here somewhere?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," Morgan replied, returning her smile. He wondered if it was inappropriate, given the circumstances, that his mind had firmly labelled the woman as "batty".

"How many other students came to you exhibiting similar behaviour?" Reid asked, turning the conversation back to the case before they were forced to drink from one of the petri-dish mugs out of politeness.

"Five," she answered immediately, making it clear to them that the death of her student hadn't faded from her mind. "Not all at the same time and not all to the same extent, but in the months leading up to Lana's death, five other students came to me with the sudden onset of anxiety or depression like symptoms. And they all had a sense that they were being followed. But this is what I found most strange…" She paused to skilfully pull six slim folders from the bundle on the desk, and passed them to Morgan and Reid, who opened the folders to reveal the student profiles of six girls, including Lana. The girls were all dark haired and pretty and had taken classes in criminology or psychology.

"Are any of these girls still students here?" Morgan asked, knowing that they had found something very important. The counsellor nodded and leaned across the desk to pick two files from those in front of the agents.

"These two are seniors now," she explained. "Sarah Anderson and Victoria Winters."

"Would we be able to speak to them?"

"Of course. I'll help you set that up," she replied, picking her way between the boxes which littered the floor until she reached the door. "I won't be a moment."

"JJ was right," Morgan remarked, when they were left alone, voicing what they already knew to be true. "Emily was not this son-of-a-bitch's first."

Their eyes lingered on the photos in front of them and they dreaded to think what Garcia would have uncovered in her wider search.

/  
/

Hotch didn't like the serious expression on Garcia's face when he answered the video call. Despite his own serious demeanour, he preferred it when the tech analyst was her usual bubbly self.

"Garcia, have you found something?" he asked.

"We've got six other suspicious looking suicides which meet the criteria you gave me," she answered, distress evident on her face. "Four are from other colleges in Virginia and two are police officers," she continued. "I've sent you and the others all the details." Hotch sighed, as he processed the expanding scope of their investigation.

"Were the modes of death the same?" he asked, knowing he would be able to read all the details soon but wanting the key points immediately.

"No sir," she replied. "Some of the victims cut their wrists, some were found hanged, and one of the police officers overdosed." Her thoughts immediately turned to Emily and she was glad that the dark haired agent was beside her and safe. Hotch's head filled with similar thoughts.

"How's Emily?" he asked.

"You can ask her yourself," Garcia replied, her face brightening slightly, as she adjusted the laptop so as to include Emily in the view of the camera.

"How are you doing?" he repeated his question, directing it at the agent it concerned. He had only had a brief opportunity to look in on Emily, on the night they had spent in the hospital waiting room. She had been unsettlingly pale and drowsy at that time, so it was a relief to see her sitting up in bed, with some of her colour returned to her cheeks.

"I'm feeling much better," she assured him with a smile. "Just want to get out of here now."

"I hope you're doing what the doctors tell you, Prentiss," he responded, half in jest and half as a warning that she should take it easy.

"I haven't left my bed, sir," she replied, honestly but missing out the fact that she had been helping Garcia from that position.

"Good to hear it," he nodded, the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards. She wasn't fooling anyone with her perfect patient act, but the fact she was undoubtedly pushing the rules was a sign that she was feeling more like herself.

"How's everyone else getting on? Do you have any other leads or information?" she pressed, not even trying to hide her desire to be involved.

"I've hit a dead end with the police department and the officers who attended the scene of Lana's death, but the others were more successful and are on their way back now."

"Is there anything else Garcia and I can do?" Emily asked.

"You can get some rest," he told her, seriously. "But I'll have the team meet at the hospital instead of Quantico," he added, softening slightly.

"Thank you, sir," Emily replied, pleased that she wasn't being excluded.

"I'll be there soon, but Emily, please don't push yourself too much?" He was pleading with her as a friend rather than giving her an order.

"I won't," she promised and Garcia also assured Hotch that Emily would rest until the team arrived at the hospital.

After ending the call, Hotch collected the almost entirely useless files and the notes he had taken during his interviews with the officers, and prepared to leave the precinct. He felt moderately more in control than he had earlier in the day. Emily was getting better and they had enough information to build a profile. All they had to do was catch this guy.


	15. One Step Closer

**A/N: This chapter is based entirely on things I remembered from profiles from the show, which I tried to interpret to develop my UNSUB, so it's probably not as factually accurate as I normally like things in my stories to be! Thanks as always for all the support and please let me know what you think :) I love to read reviews!**

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The doctors and nurses responsible for Emily's care weren't entirely sure what to make of their patient's room being turned into some kind of FBI war room. But it was keeping her in bed, and she had already been threatening to discharge herself, so they let the numerous violations of hospital rules and procedures slide, in exchange for keeping her under observation.

Inside the room, the blinds had been drawn to give them privacy, and so that Hotch would at least be able to say that their work remained confidential, when Strauss inevitably came down on him for his bending of protocol. JJ and Hotch stood at the whiteboard, which the nurse who had been assisting them since Emily's arrival in the ER had found in a conference room in the hospital, and the rest of the team perched on chairs or on the bed.

"So it appears we have six possible murders, in addition to that of Lana Saunders, and that our UNSUB has targeted at least five other college students," JJ stated, summarising much of what had been discovered and was written across the whiteboard.

"But surely the survivors from Georgetown suggest that there are likely to be other failed or practice targets out there?" Rossi suggested. He disliked using the word "failed", since in his eyes it was anything but a failure that Emily, or any other women, had survived. However, he had to remind himself that it was the sick man who had carried out these attacks that they were profiling, and in his eyes survival was likely to mean something had gone wrong.

"It's likely," Hotch agreed. "But I'm hopeful that we can build a profile without the need to trace further victims at this time."

"We know he's organised and takes time to plan his next move," Morgan said, getting back to the profile.

"And he's sadistic; he likes to watch as his victims suffer," Emily added, shuddering at the thought of the cameras that had been found in her apartment. Her friends had initially been unwilling to share that piece of information, but had come to accept both that Emily had a right to know and that she would find out in the end.

"Planting the cameras demonstrates some confidence and we know he repeatedly entered Emily's apartment," JJ remarked and Emily felt sick at the thought of the stranger prowling around her home.

"But he also seems to avoid directly confronting his victims, which would normally suggest a lack of social skills," Reid piped up. "Though I suppose we can only speculate about his ability to interact with others."

"He's not incapable of interacting with his victims but he prefers not to," Emily said quietly.

"How do you know that?" Hotch asked. She felt her face flush and she shifted uncomfortably in the bed as all eyes turned in her direction.

"I remember… well, sort of remember seeing him in my apartment. The night I hit my head. I woke up and I think it threw him. I can see the alarm in his eyes. But he calmed down and then he talked to me; he was trying to soothe me back to sleep and he touched me." The hazy memory of that moment had been in her head since it happened, but until recently, she had assumed it was from a nightmare. The fear, which was normally under control when she was surrounded by her armed friends, knotted itself tightly in her stomach, and she felt her heart rate quicken as she recalled her tormentor's touch.

"Emily, I promise he's not going to lay a finger on you again," Morgan assured, his need to protect her increasing as he saw her discomfort. He was sitting on the end of her bed and reached out to reassuringly rest his hand on her leg. She found herself calm slightly at the physical reassurance that her friends were right beside her.

"Morgan's right, Emily – he won't get anywhere near you," Hotch added. "Are you sure you want us to be doing this here?" She nodded, showing greater self-assurance than she felt in her determination to prove her strength.

"He's probably a loner – regardless of whether that's by choice or otherwise," Rossi continued with the profile, aware that Emily probably didn't appreciate being the focus of the team's attention. His statement was greeted with nods of agreement.

"We can see from the video footage that he's young, but it's also possible that he is or was a student at one or more of the colleges the victims attended. He was certainly able to blend in enough with college life to avoid detection while stalking female students," Spencer contributed. In comparison to some other cases they had worked they had quite a lot of information to go on.

"Garcia, can you check for any male students who have attended all the colleges we're concerned with, or who have transferred or dropped out after periods of a few months?" Hotch asked, unsure of the likelihood of a match, but determining that it couldn't hurt to make use of Garcia's talents. The quality of the video footage stored on the UNSUB's computer wasn't sufficient to identify him, but it would be enough to make a comparison with the student IDs of anyone the search turned up.

"Right away, sir," she replied, and immediately the sound of her fast typing filled the room. The others continued to develop the profile.

"What about victimology?" JJ asked, bringing the discussion towards the area that no one wanted to cover in front of Emily. After the day she'd had, JJ felt immune to the effects of yet another uncomfortable conversation so was willing to be the one to raise the matter. "All his victims are white, dark haired women – they fit the pattern we identified when we first considered the connection between Emily and Lana."

"And all the students took classes within the field of criminology or psychology. When you take that with the escalation to targeting law enforcement agents, especially a profiler, the connection we made between Lana and Emily's backgrounds stands," Rossi added.

"His victims could be surrogates for someone who worked in law enforcement or with criminals and hurt him in some way," Morgan suggested. There were too many victims sharing obvious similarities for there to be any element of coincidence.

"I've got something!" Garcia exclaimed, before anyone could expand on Morgan's idea. She had been refining her search and adding details as her colleagues spoke and she'd suddenly found herself with one result. "Daniel Adams," she announced. "He was studying at Georgetown at the same time as Lana and left shortly after her death. He didn't re-enrol anywhere and he's been off the map since then. His mother was a college professor with an interest in criminal psychology and when Daniel was fourteen she was attacked while carrying out research into gang culture in New York. Physically, she recovered, but two years later she tried to kill herself and was then institutionalised. Daniel is her only family and he's been responsible for making all decisions relating to her medical treatment and care since her suicide attempt." Garcia stopped, slightly out of breath from quickly rattling off the information without a pause. She couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor boy left to contend with the broken shell of his mother. But then she remembered that he had potentially grown into the man responsible for seven deaths, for destroying the lives of an unknown number of others and for hospitalising her friend. Her sympathy quickly reached its limit.

"That could certainly have made him angry at his mother – her attack, which was connected to her career, ended his childhood," Rossi remarked.

"Does the mother match the physical description of the victims?" Hotch asked.

Garcia quickly pulled up a photo and turned the screen to face the others. They were met with the image of a dark haired woman, who not only matched the victim profile, but also bore a disconcerting resemblance to Emily.

"The close resemblance could explain why he's taken more risks with Emily than with other victims," Reid commented, once he had recovered from the initial shock at seeing the photo. Until now they had been struggling to explain why the UNSUB had made the move to targeting an FBI agent, and why he had been so bold in his approach.

"Do you have a picture of Daniel?" JJ asked. Their partially formed profile seemed to fit with the man Garcia had found, but they needed confirmation and while Emily couldn't remember much about the man she had faced in her apartment, there was a chance she would recognise him.

No verbal response was required to confirm that the face which appeared on the screen was the same face that had hidden itself somewhere in Emily's brain since their brief encounter in her apartment. All colour drained from the brunette's face and, with the overwhelming fear and panic that shot through her body like an electric shock, she could feel the bile rising in her throat. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, reminding herself that she was safe. She wasn't going to crumble in front of them.

"That's him," she spoke confidently, confirming what they already knew about the man on the screen, but also that she was far from another broken victim. As the initial panic subsided, Emily began to feel the confidence and strength she had been feigning crystallising into something real. This man had hurt her and she was angry and, admittedly still a little afraid, but he was no longer a phantom, floating around her life and causing her to doubt her own sanity. Daniel Adams was a real person; he was a criminal and a killer - like the countless others she had encountered in her career. And just like those others, she, and the people who surrounded her, would hunt him down.


	16. Hide And Seek

**A/N: Bit of a shorter and slower chapter to move the story along, but there's a lot more drama and angst coming up! Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter and to everyone who's reading. As always, I love to hear what you think :)**

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"You wanted to see me?" JJ appeared in the doorway of Hotch's office. It was late afternoon, the day after they had identified their UNSUB as Daniel Adams, and despite working all through the night and all day, their attempts to locate him had failed.

"Yes," her boss nodded, looking up from the vast expanse of files and paperwork which covered his desk. His furrowed brow was marked with deep creases and reading was beginning to strain his eyes.

"Old age affecting your eyesight?" JJ remarked with a grin, as she observed the way he was squinting.

"I need to sleep," Hotch responded, rubbing his eyes and leaning back in his seat to stretch. "And so do you," he added, taking in her appearance. Her hair was out of place from where she had been running her fingers as she got increasingly exasperated with her work, and she had a coffee stain on the sleeve of her blouse from when she had zoned out while pouring a cup from the pot.

"Hey, speak for yourself – I rock the sleep deprived look!" she laughed, crossing the room and taking a seat at Hotch's desk. "What did you want to see me about?"

"Are you still going to pick Emily up?" he asked. JJ nodded.

"I'm going straight to the hospital after we're done here," she replied. "Why?"

"I want to ask you favour. I was wondering if you would stay with Emily for a while."

"She's going to be staying with me – we already arranged that," JJ responded, a little confused by his request.

"I know, but I mean that I want you to stay with her instead of searching for Adams with us. I don't think we should underestimate how dangerous or determined he could be."

"You want me to be Emily's bodyguard?" JJ asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was unsure whether laughter was an appropriate response but Hotch's expression confirmed that he was being entirely serious. "She'll hate that."

"I know," Hotch agreed. "But I'm not taking chances. She's already going to be in your house and you can tell her I've given you a few days off to help her out until she's back on her feet."

"She won't like that either," JJ pointed out.

"Well it's a better option than seeing her turn up dead," Hotch responded sharply. JJ visibly flinched at his harsh tone. "I'm sorry," he softened. "I just want her to be safe."

"OK, I'll stay with her for the next few days," JJ agreed. Emily wasn't going to be happy when she realised what was going on, which she was bound to do, but at the same time irritating Emily was infinitely preferable to putting her life at risk. "I'd better get to the hospital; I'm already running late."

"Thank you for doing this," Hotch told her, as she stood from her seat.

"It's no problem – she's family," JJ replied. "I'll let you know when we're back at my house." She made her way back out of the room, but paused in the doorway. "Aaron?" she said, addressing him by his first name to make it clear she was not speaking as a subordinate agent.

"What is it?" he replied, noting how she had addressed him.

"Make sure you get home tonight. Go and see Jack and sleep in your own bed. Finding this guy isn't all on you," she reminded him in a firm but caring voice.

"Thanks, JJ," he replied. He knew that what she was saying was right and he had really needed to hear it. She nodded and gave him a small smile, before turning away and leaving the office.

He heard her heels click as she walked along the corridor. The bullpen was abnormally quiet as everyone was engrossed in their attempts to track down Adams. As he turned his attention to the latest data he had received from Garcia, and tried to focus on the words in front of him, he made the decision to ensure all his team went home at a reasonable time that evening. They'd be no use to anyone if they burnt out.

/  
/

When JJ arrived at the hospital, Emily was sitting on the bed, fully dressed and ready to leave. She couldn't wait to be away from the smell of disinfectant and the round the clock sounds of doctors and nurses and machines. Even if she wasn't going to her home, she was going somewhere that was a home, instead of somewhere sterile and clinical, and that made her feel better than she had in days.

"Hey, sorry I'm running late," JJ greeted her as she entered the room, after showing her badge to the police officers on the door.

"That's OK," Emily assured her. "I'm just happy to be getting out of here." She stood up, eager to get going, and JJ picked up her bag. Emily opened her mouth to protest but JJ cut her off when she raised her eyebrows and gave her a look which told her there was no point in arguing.

"We'll see if you're still happy to be away from the peace and quiet of a hospital room once you've spent a few days in the madhouse I call home!" she grinned, leading the way out of the room. "You'll have the pleasure of my company for a while as well," she added, deciding it was easiest to introduce Emily to the arrangement in a light-hearted manner.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, stopping in her tracks. JJ cursed the fact that her fellow profiler never missed a trick.

"Hotch has given me a few days off," she replied, keeping her explanation short and simple in the vain hope that Emily would let it go.

"To babysit me?" Emily suggested an ending to JJ's lacking explanation.

"It's not like that, Em," JJ insisted.

"I can look after myself."

"I've never doubted that."

"But Hotch does?" Emily raised her eyebrows. She hated the thought that their unit chief, and close friend, would doubt her abilities.

"No, he just wants to be extra careful that Adams can't get to you. And I agree. Emily, let us keep you safe. I know you're just as tough as the rest of us, and probably even more so, but right now you are more vulnerable than normal and we can't risk losing you." JJ hadn't meant to take such an emotional approach but Emily seemed to respond.

"OK," she agreed quietly. "But no treating me like an invalid. And don't lie to me about the case," she insisted.

"I promise I won't," JJ responded sincerely, though she suspected they might come up against some difficulties in interpreting exactly what that promise did or did not mean.

/  
/

"Emily!" sang Henry's over-excited voice, the moment JJ's key turned in the lock. The small boy rushed to the door, closely followed by his father, who had been doing his best to prevent the child launching himself at Emily before she'd even made it into the house. Henry's excitement had been building since he found out Emily was coming to stay. He knew it was bad that she was sick, but he couldn't help being happy to see one of his Momma's friends. They were always working and normally he only saw them on birthdays and holidays.

"Slow down, Henry. Remember what we said?" Will told his son, lightly holding his shoulders and stopping him from bouncing up and down on the spot.

"Sorry, Daddy," he apologised. He'd been told how important it was that Emily rested and that he had to be on his best behaviour around her.

"Hi, Will. Hi, Henry," Emily smiled, stepping into the hallway. The boy's grin instantaneously reappeared. "Thanks for letting me stay," she added, giving her friend's husband a grateful smile.

"It's nothin'," he assured her. "How you feelin'?"

"Better," she replied, and she really meant it.

"The guest room's ready for you upstairs if you want to lie down," JJ informed her, placing Emily's bag on the ground and closing the door. "Or if you want some company, I'm sure my son would be more than willing to introduce you to some of his toys." She ruffled her son's hair and he grinned up at her.

"I think I'll hang out with Henry if that's OK with him," Emily replied, turning to look at the boy, who nodded vigorously and pulled away from his dad to grab hold of Emily's hand.

"Come on! I drawed you a picture!" he announced, dragging her off in the direction of the living room. Seeing the genuine smile on the brunette's face, his parents simply laughed. Even if it was only temporary, it seemed Henry would provide just the distraction she needed.

/  
/

While Emily settled into a lively game of snap with Henry, somewhere across town, a man lay in wait, counting the days until his game could resume. Daniel had learned very little from his mother. Useless bitch. But her work and the attack which had destroyed her had taught him a lot about how the police operated. And he knew it would be a while before he could get close to Emily again. But a time would come when those around her would drop their guard and, when that time came, he'd be ready.

Women like that didn't deserve to live; they didn't deserve to saunter through life confidently and freely when they were getting everything so wrong. And eventually they came to accept their only option to be death. They could play at being cops or at understanding the criminal world in which they did not belong, but they couldn't play his game. In the end he would win. And he'd be sparing future children from the pain of a hopeless mother.


	17. The Ghost Of You

**AN/ Can't. Stop. Writing. Seriously, I have the opposite of writer's block today and I really want to share it. So hopefully no one minds another update? Also, it probably gets a little boring to read but I'll keep saying it because I mean it - thanks for all the support with this story :) I'm pretty sure you are all partly responsible for my crazy motivation to write! **

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A week passed. Leads went cold. And eventually, pressure from above forced Hotch to divert some of the team's resources to other cases.

"This is bull!" Morgan exclaimed, as Hotch asked him to take a trip to Richmond to consult on a case involving a possible serial rapist. He slammed the file he had just been passed onto his desk and paced across the room. Hotch sighed.

"It wasn't my decision," he explained, not that it would make any difference to Morgan's feelings on the matter. "Reid and Garcia are still working on tracing Adams. There's nothing more we can do."

"This guy is a freakin' ghost," Morgan sighed, stopping his pacing and leaning on the desk, as he redirected his anger towards Daniel Adams. "It's like he never existed! We have no leads left and he's left no paper trail. How are we meant to find him?" Hotch shared Morgan's frustration, but as the unit chief, he couldn't have the luxury of letting it show.

"You're not fresh out of the academy; you know that sometimes this is how it goes. He will resurface and then we'll get another shot," Hotch reasoned, though even he wasn't satisfied by that logic.

"So we just wait for him to take another shot at Emily?" Morgan asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Prentiss can look after herself; she's not a civilian," Hotch reminded his increasingly difficult colleague. "We've profiled Adams – she knows what to look out for and so do we."

"He got to her before and we didn't notice," Morgan persisted.

"What do you want me to say?" Hotch snapped, his already frayed patience coming to an end. "We've done all we can and I need your support in getting the rest of the team to move on. There are other places we can be of assistance. Like in Richmond," he added, pointedly.

"All right then," Morgan muttered, snatching the file from the desk and making to leave the office. Hotch was ready to stop him. He could pull rank and demand that Morgan treat him with more respect. But that wasn't the way the BAU operated and he wasn't about to mess with their dynamics when they were all under so much stress. Plus, if truth be told, Hotch was just as angry with the orders from above as Morgan, and it almost made him feel better that one of them was able to vent their frustration.

/  
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Emily breathed in the cold air and felt refreshed as it hit her lungs. The crispness of the atmosphere told of the fast approaching transformation from fall to winter. She'd been cooped up for too long. First in her apartment and then in the hospital, and finally, for the past week, she hadn't left JJ's house. The walks she'd taken with Spencer barely registered in her memory – they had been limited in number and she had been under the influence of too many drugs. It was as though she'd missed a whole season.

"Am I the only one who doesn't want to be outside?" JJ asked, pulling her jacket tighter around her body and crossing her arms in an attempt to block out the cold. She had returned to the BAU a few days after Emily left the hospital, but had this particular afternoon off, and the two women had decided to take Henry to the park.

"Yes you are," Emily replied, with a slight laugh. Henry was happily running around the playground while his mother and her friend watched from a bench. "It's good to be outside; it feels normal," she remarked, leaning back against the bench and taking another deep breath.

JJ smiled, and decided not to complain any further about the temperature. She could put up with a cold, red nose if it meant Emily and Henry were happy. And, if she could ignore the fact that a trip to the park still necessitated her to bring her badge and gun, it did feel something like normalcy.

"Henry, stay where I can see you!" she called, as Henry joined some older children playing basketball at a child sized hoop, at the far side of the playground. "And be careful!"

"You're such a mom," Emily laughed. Henry was throwing himself straight into the game, oblivious to the fact that some of the players were twice his size. "It must be great to be that fearless," she remarked.

"It isn't when he ends up in the ER needing stitches or with a broken arm," JJ responded dryly. Considering her son's young age, she had spent a disproportionate amount of time dealing with the fallout of his fearlessness.

"But look at him," Emily continued. "He's not scared of those kids or of joining in. He's just playing and enjoying himself." JJ noticed the sadness which suddenly edged Emily's tone and realised what her friend was getting at.

"You will feel safe again," she assured the brunette.

"Will I?" Emily asked. "This guy is still out there and we're going to have to stop looking soon – he's left no trace. I lived for so long looking over my shoulder for Doyle and then finally he was gone. And now it's happening all over again." She paused and let out a sigh. "But maybe that's just the way my life is always going to be. Right up until whoever I'm watching out for finally gets me. I got lucky with Doyle but that luck has to run out sometime."

JJ was momentarily stunned by Emily's attitude. It both disturbed and enraged her that her friend seemed so resigned to living her life in fear until someone killed her.

"Emily, look at me," she instructed. Emily did as she was told and as she turned her dark eyes towards JJ, she revealed the fear and despair she had been speaking of. It seemed the brief moment of happiness and normality had passed. "You can't think like that," JJ told her firmly. "Daniel Adams is going to make a mistake someday. He's going to get a parking ticket or open a bank account, and the moment he does, we're going to get him." She spoke with such confidence that Emily almost believed her.

"I hope you're right," she responded, softly.

"I'm always right," JJ grinned and Emily did her best to return a smile. "What is Henry doing?" she muttered, turning her eyes back to the playground to see her son clambering back over the fence. By the looks of it he had left the playground to retrieve the ball. "Henry!" she shouted sternly. "Get over here, now!"

Emily couldn't help but smile to herself, as JJ stood up, making her way towards her son, and the small boy abandoned his new playmates and rushed towards his mother. Fearlessness wasn't much use when it came to facing your FBI agent mother after disobeying her orders.

/  
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At the opposite side of the playground from where the blonde and brunette sat on a bench, a man smoked a cigarette while leaning against a tree. He was hidden from sight – he had made sure of that. It wouldn't have been his preferred location – the children were noisy and distracting and there were too many people around. But it would have to do, and the fact that she was outside was a step in the right direction. It wouldn't be long until she was left on her own.

He watched carefully, noting the wariness which radiated from his target. Even if he couldn't get on with the game just yet, he could take some pleasure in her need to be accompanied and her obvious unease. Her laugh was hollow. Just as it should be.

"Not so strong now, are you?" he muttered under his breath, as he took another long drag of the cigarette.

It was a few minutes later that his small area of solitude was disturbed by a ball landing a couple of feet away. The ball was soon joined by a small blonde boy, who eyed him warily and wouldn't step into the wooded area.

"Can I have the ball?" the child asked, nervously scuffing his shoes on the ground.

"Didn't your Mommy tell you not to speak to strangers?" he sneered, stepping towards the ball and tossing it in the boy's direction. As soon as he had retrieved the ball, the child scampered back towards the playground, without so much as a backward glance.

As the blonde mother chastised her son, the man continued to smoke and returned his attention to his dark haired target. His expression mirrored hers as a smile spread across her face. If only she knew how close he was.


	18. Family Affair

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter and thank you to everyone reading/following. I don't want to ruin this chapter by saying anything before you read it so I'll just say let me know what you think. And promise that I won't leave it hanging for too long! Also, if you have a couple of minutes, check out the poll on my profile - I'm already planning my next Criminal Minds fic and would love to hear opinions on what people would like to read. **

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Another couple of weeks had passed since their afternoon in the park and there had been no sign of Daniel Adams. The teams' frustrations faded and their hyper-vigilance declined as they were faced with other cases and as Emily grew stronger. They weren't taking unnecessary risks, and Emily was still staying in JJ and Will's guest room, but life was slowly moving on.

"Emily, can you watch Henry for half an hour?" JJ called, as she stuck her head into the living room where Emily and Henry were crawling about the floor, building a den between two chairs. They were out of milk and she knew they needed it for Henry's cereal in the morning. She wouldn't be long and it wasn't the first time Emily had stayed in the house by herself.

Emily turned to face her, still on her hands and knees and with a smile plastered across her face. Henry had definitely cemented a firm role in assisting with her recovery; JJ couldn't remember the last time she had seen the brunette look so happy.

"Sure," she replied. "Though you might need a password to get back in," she grinned, causing Henry to laugh. JJ laughed as well.

"You wouldn't do that to Mommy, would you?" she asked the little blonde boy, who simply grinned mischievously in response.

"Of course we wouldn't," Emily smirked, before turning to Henry and mouthing "of course we would". Henry giggled again and shuffled closer to his new favourite adult.

"Do you need anything from the store?" JJ asked. Despite some things returning to normality, Emily still tended to stay inside if she wasn't with JJ, Will or one of the team. She shook her head.

"I'm fine," she assured her friend. "Apparently Penelope wants to go shopping when we go out for lunch tomorrow." She rolled her eyes – they both knew what shopping trips with Garcia could be like.

"I look forward to it," JJ replied sarcastically as she left the room. "Be good!" she called back. "Both of you!" she laughed.

"So, what else does our secret hideout need?" Emily asked Henry as they heard the front door close. He paused, surveying the carefully constructed cave of sheets and pillows, biting down on his lip in the same manner JJ did when she was thinking.

"My flag!" he exclaimed suddenly and excitedly, getting to his feet. He was referring to a pirate flag, with a skull and cross bones, which he had been given at a friend's themed birthday party and was now one of his prized possessions.

"Do you know where it is?" Emily asked. He shook his head, disappointment spreading across his face. "Don't worry," Emily smiled. "I'm sure we can find it." The house had a limited number of rooms and hiding places – it surely couldn't be that difficult.

Henry started the hunt by racing up to his room, while Emily began downstairs. It wasn't long before the young boy returned.

"Have you found it?" Emily asked, sensing the enthusiasm in his step. He shook his head as he appeared in the room.

"But I see it outside," he explained. He had looked out of the window and seen the flag planted in his sandbox from his last game of pirates. "Can I get it?" He was practically bursting with impatience.

"Sure, we'll get it together," Emily smiled, as he headed to the kitchen door which led into the garden. She unlocked the door and they stepped outside, Henry racing ahead to the sandbox. Emily was about to follow when she heard the phone ring from inside. Thinking it might have been JJ asking her to check whether she needed to buy something else, she headed inside, calling out to Henry as she did so. "I'm just answering the phone!" she shouted. "Come straight back in when you've got your flag!"

She picked up the phone from the cradle and pressed the button to accept the call. Standing by the window, she could see Henry's sandbox but not Henry. She assumed he was on his way back to the house – the window didn't provide a view of the entire yard.

"Hello," she said, holding the phone to her ear. "Hello?" she repeated when there was no answer. She glanced at the screen and saw the caller's number was unknown. As she hung up, she experienced a slight shiver of unease. Silent phone calls still gave her the creeps.

Placing the phone back in its cradle, she heard the noise of the door closing over and began to turn around.

"Are you ready to…?" her voice trailed off as her blood turned cold at the sight that met her.

"Hello, Emily," a cool voice greeted her, as she came face-to-face with the man that she ordinarily only saw in her worst dreams.

It had only taken that split second decision to open the door and then answer the phone; just one stupid mistake and she'd physically and metaphorically let him back into her life.

Her attention very quickly moved from the eyes of her tormentor to the long silver blade which rested dangerously close to Henry's neck. The small boy trembled as the man pushed him further forward into the kitchen. Emily momentarily froze as she gazed into his tear-filled eyes and saw his quivering lip. He let out a whimper and Adams tightened his grip on his shoulder.

"Let him go," Emily instructed, finding strength in the overwhelming need to protect her best friend's son. "He's just a kid." Henry's pirate flag fell to the floor and was soon ruined by the puddle of liquid which tickled down his legs and pooled at his feet.

"I have no interest in the boy," the calm voice sneered.

"Then drop the knife," Emily commanded, trying to make eye contact with the terrified child and offer him some reassurance.

"Not yet," came the response.

"What do you want?" Emily asked.

"I want you to come with me," Daniel stated simply.

"Let go of Henry," she instructed again, trying to find an escape for the both of them. "And then I'll do what you say," she added, as she realised there was no other way to guarantee the small child's safety.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take your word for that," he retorted with an amused chuckle.

"Tell me what to do." Her one priority was ensuring Henry's safety.

"Get onto your knees," he instructed. Hesitantly, and never taking her eyes off of Henry, she lowered herself to the floor. "Now lie down," he continued. Again she slowly did as she was told. "Hands on the back of your head." He was making sure she was in no position to resist or fight back.

"You've got me; let him go," Emily pleaded, looking up from the floor at the man and his young hostage.

Daniel released Henry from his grip and moved the knife away from his throat. He stepped away from the silently crying boy and crouched down beside Emily, drawing a syringe from his pocket. Her eyes widened as he uncapped the needle and brushed her hair from her neck.

"Henry, go upstairs and wait for Mommy to come home," Emily instructed, trying to keep her voice as calm and reassuring as possible. Henry remained fixed on the spot, watching in horror. "Everything's going to be OK," she said, giving him the most convincing smile she could muster up. "Just go up to your room and Mommy will be home soon."

"I'm scared," Henry whispered, his eyes pleading for Emily to stay with him.

"I know, but just be brave for a little longer. I promise everything will be fine." She could feel the tears prickling her eyes. She needed to get Henry out of the room. Abductions, especially from the home, hadn't been part of the behaviour they had anticipated from Adams. This wasn't part of the profile – he was becoming unpredictable. And she had no way of knowing whether he would consider killing Henry to be mere collateral damage.

"I had an accident," Henry sobbed, looking down at his wet feet.

"That doesn't matter," Emily assured him, blinking away tears. "Why don't you show me what a big boy you are and go and clean yourself up?" she suggested.

Adams remained by Emily's side, though his eyes were on Henry and he was ready to move in either direction. His hands held a firm grip on both the syringe and the knife.

"OK," Henry nodded, and Emily let out the breath she had been holding as the boy cautiously made his way across the kitchen and then ran upstairs to his room.

"Please leave him alone," Emily cried, as a hand pressed down on her neck to hold her steady.

"Why would I need him when I've got you?" Daniel's voice told her sincerely, as she felt the sting of the needle and the kitchen tiles blurred before her eyes.

"Just please…d-don't hurt… Henry," she slurred, repeating her plea once more despite his reassurance, just before her eyes fluttered shut and her body went limp.


	19. I've Got You

**A/N: I was so surprised by the response to the last chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews. Hope you like the next chapter. As always, I love to hear what you think :)**

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JJ knew something was wrong the moment she entered the house. It was too quiet and Henry and Emily's den was incomplete and abandoned. The draft blowing through the downstairs from the open kitchen door only confirmed her initial impression. As both her heart and mind began to race with fear of what could have happened, she wished her gun wasn't locked away in the safe. Why had she let herself become so complacent about their safety? Carefully, and with full awareness of the fact that she was unarmed, she cleared the downstairs rooms. Where were they?

"Henry? Emily?" she called as she rushed upstairs. Her sense of panic overcame any desire to creep through the house unnoticed. If anyone lay in wait upstairs then they'd have heard her by now. All she wanted to do was reach her son.

"Momma!" Henry's shout drew her towards his bedroom and she threw open the door to find him cowering in the corner, behind a large toy box.

"Henry!" she gasped, taking in his appearance. His face was tear-stained and his eyes and nose were still dripping. He wore a pair of shorts she had bought him for playing soccer, instead of the pants she had dressed him in that morning. And the moment she entered the room, he launched himself into her arms and began to sob. She picked him up and held him close, feeling his little hands make fists around the fabric of her sweater. "Henry, where's Emily?" she asked, as the reality of the situation dawned on her.

"Bad…man," Henry sobbed, burying his face against his mother's shoulder.

JJ sat down on her son's bed, cradling him against her chest.

"It's OK, buddy," she soothed, rubbing his back and trying to calm him down. "Mommy's here and the bad man is gone."

"Em'ly… t-t-told me… come up… and g-g-get clean… I had… accident." His words came out as muffled sobs but she got the picture. That explained the change of clothes and the wet pants in the middle of the room. And Emily – she felt a fresh wave of panic at what could be happening to her friend – Emily had managed to ensure her son's safety. But at what cost?

"It's OK. You were so brave doing what Emily said," she whispered, planting a succession of kisses on his head and rocking him gently as though he was still a tiny baby.

With one hand, she retrieved her cellphone from her pocket and called Hotch, murmuring reassurances to her child as she waited for an answer.

"Emily's gone!" she exclaimed as soon as Hotch picked up. "He's got her." She didn't bother trying to give any further explanation – all she wanted was for the team to get to her house and get out looking for Emily. And all she could do in the meantime – all her body would allow her to do – was to wrap her son in her arms and thank God that his heart was beating against hers.

/  
/

Wherever she was, it was dark. That was the first thought which entered Emily's mind as she came to in a place that was most definitely not JJ's house. A moment later she became aware of the motion, which was adding to the groggy and nauseous feeling from whatever he had injected her with, and determined that she was in the trunk of a car. An attempt at movement confirmed that her wrists and ankles were tightly bound. He wasn't taking chances with her escaping.

In the dark, and in contemplation of her apparently bleak future, the only hope that Emily could find was that Adams had stayed true to his word and spared Henry. And she clung onto that hope; she clung onto the possibility that the little blonde boy was now surrounded by the arms and security of his parents.

That hope was all she thought of as the car slowed to a stop and the hum of the engine was replaced with an eerie quiet.

/  
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"Where are they?" Will demanded, barging past the police officers and forensics specialists who were combing over the downstairs of his home. "Hotch, where's my boy?" he asked desperately, as he saw the unit chief making his way downstairs.

"Henry and JJ are in his room," Hotch replied, stepping to the side to allow the panicked father to join his child.

Will didn't slow down until he saw his son, alive and breathing, in his wife's arms. His eyes met JJ's as he paused in the doorway to the room. She'd been crying and her expression was desperate and pained.

"Is he OK?" Will asked, worry seeping from his every pore.

"He's sleeping – he cried until he wore himself out," she replied. "And he's got bruising coming up on his shoulders. It looks like Adams grabbed him. But other than that he's fine. Physically." She sniffed and pulled Henry closer as she thought of someone laying so much as a finger on her child, and of the damage that had been done by everything he experienced and witnessed.

Will came to sit beside them, sliding close to JJ and wrapping one arm around her shoulders. He gently ran a hand through Henry's blonde hair and took comfort in the solid presence of the boy. He couldn't bear to think of an alternative situation where Adams hadn't left his child behind. JJ leaned her head against her husband and shifted some of Henry's weight to his lap. Will kissed her hair and her tears began to fall once again. It was all too much to process.

"What happened?" he asked as JJ cried quietly and Henry clung on to her in his sleep.

"He held a knife to Henry's throat," she replied, a mix of venom and distress evident in her voice. "And he got Emily to lie down on the ground; he made sure she couldn't fight back." It had taken a while but she had managed to ask Henry some questions and piece together what had happened. "Emily got Henry out of the room and then he must have taken her." She choked back a sob. "I shouldn't have left them," she muttered, shaking her head.

"This isn't your fault," he promised her, kissing her head once again. "It's all on that son of a bitch Adams. I'm gonna kill him," Will muttered, his hatred towards the man who had led his family into this situation overshadowing his gentle personality. He carefully adjusted Henry's position so that the child was again entirely in his mother's arms, and got to his feet.

"Will," JJ pleaded. She wanted to hunt down Daniel Adams as much as he did, but Henry needed her. And in turn, she needed her husband to be by her side rather than roaming the streets fuelled by his anger. "Please just stay with us."

He hesitated for a moment; he wanted to be the one to find Adams and end him. But then he looked at his wife and son and felt himself moving back towards them. The FBI and most of the local police department were already pursuing Adams with a vengeance. They would find him. And Emily. Will's anger flared as he thought of the danger she faced; the danger she had opened herself to in order to protect his son. He would never be able to thank her enough and it seemed wrong not to be part of the search for her. But right now, his place was with his family.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he promised, settling back down on the bed and praying that someone got to Adams before he could cause any more pain to the people he cared about.


	20. I Will Steal You Back

**A/N: Again, thank you so much for the reviews and for reading and following. It makes me so happy to know that people are enjoying this story. I'm really excited to write the next couple of chapters - I've had them in my head for so long! Hope you enjoy this update and leave me a review to let me know your thoughts :) **

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After checking on JJ and Henry, Hotch returned to the cluster of law enforcement agents in the street outside. He had instructed JJ that she was to stay with her son and he was relieved to see Will rushing to join them. This was one instance where they had to be parents first and put their jobs, and even their relationship with Emily, in the background. Hotch himself had been left shaken by Adams' latest move; not just by the abduction of Emily but also by the involvement of the child of one of his agents. In their line of work they had to anticipate an element of danger, but it didn't normally extend to their children. He had already called Jessica, just to settle the irrational but instinctual part of his brain which needed reassurance that Jack was safe. Jack was indeed safe. And also highly annoyed that his dad's impromptu phone call was going to make him late for soccer practice.

"Hotch," Morgan called, as he, Reid and Rossi made their way towards the unit chief. While Hotch had remained close to the house, instructing the various agents and officers and checking on JJ and Henry, the others had been out canvassing the neighbours for anything they might have seen. The job was one which could have been handled by rookie cops, but they had nowhere else to begin and in recognition of the need to reach Emily quickly, the search had adopted an all hands on deck mentality. Everyone was doing anything they could to help.

"Have you got something?" he asked, sensing a glimmer of hope on the faces of the agents.

"One of the neighbours saw an unfamiliar silver car pull up on the street today. And she says it's been here a few times over the past week," Reid replied.

"Do you have a full description?"

"Even better; we have a full description and a complete licence plate," Rossi explained. As it turned out, Will and JJ's decision to live in nosy, picket fence suburbia had worked to the advantage of the team. An elderly woman, who lived a few doors down, had just happened to notice the strange vehicle and write down the registration. On that same notepad, Reid had also caught a glimpse of her description of a newspaper delivery boy with "suspiciously thick clothing" and a remark that the house across the street had one fewer lawn gnome than two days earlier. He suspected her record keeping could be annoying to those who lived around her, but at least her obsessive watch on the neighbourhood had given them a possible lead.

"We've sent the licence plate number to Garcia and she's working her magic as we speak," Morgan continued. "If it passed a traffic camera in the area then we'll know about it." They knew it wouldn't be long until the technical analyst got back to them.

"If this is him then he's making no effort to cover his tracks," Hotch stated with a sigh.

"He's spiralling," Morgan agreed. "The abduction didn't fit our profile. He knows we're onto him and he's changing key elements of his MO."

"This is his end game," Rossi frowned. "We can't expect him to stick to his usual pattern."

"Do you think he'd kill Emily without staging a suicide?" Reid asked, looking alarmed. If that was the case then they had less time than he'd imagined.

"I don't know, but we have to assume that we're working with a shorter timeline," Hotch replied. He wished he had something more reassuring to offer his colleagues.

Before anyone could say more, their worried contemplation was interrupted by the ringing of Morgan's cellphone.

"Baby girl, tell me we've got him?" Morgan half questioned and half pleaded. He put the call on speaker so that everyone could hear.

"It's definitely Adams that's driving the car. I picked him up on a camera about half a mile from JJ's house and got a good look at his face," Garcia's voice replied.

"Was there any sign of Emily in the car?" Reid asked, unsure which answer would be the worst.

"No," Garcia replied, reluctantly. "What does that mean?" she demanded, as their silence filled her with fear.

"It could mean a number of things," Rossi tried to reassure her.

"Like what?" she pressed, unsatisfied with his vague statement. "Do you mean that she might already be dead? Because that's what it sounds like you're saying. Or not saying. Tell me our girl isn't dead," she babbled.

"Try not to worry, baby girl," Morgan urged. "We have to stay strong for Emily; we have to keep believing that she's OK. Do you hear me?" he prompted gently.

"I hear you," she replied, though she sounded uncertain and lacking in confidence. "I'll keep tracing the car and let you know as soon as I find a current location."

"Thanks, Garcia," Hotch told her sincerely. He knew it was especially hard for the most optimistic member of the team to think of the worst case scenario, but she was a valuable asset in their search for Emily. And, with the car being their only lead, she was their best hope of finding their friend alive.

They ended the call and trooped back into JJ's house to await further information from Garcia. It was frustrating that they could do nothing more than wait, but the more that Adams lost control, the less useful any kind of a profile would be. All they could usefully draw from his behaviour was that he no longer cared about getting away with his crimes. And despite the assurances and talk of hope, which they used to calm Penelope, none of the agents were feeling particularly positive about Emily's fate.

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They were just trying to protect her and keep her focussed on the task in hand. She might not have been some smarty-pants profiler, but she knew what that silence had meant. As her fingers rattled over her keyboard and her eyes skimmed over traffic camera images, Penelope Garcia was fully aware that her friends were seriously entertaining the possibility that they were too late to save Emily.

"Emily Prentiss, you are alive," she muttered under her breath as she pulled up the image of Adams' car on a road another few miles from JJ's street. "And you are going to stay that way." She'd attended Emily's funeral once before and she swore never to do it again. She found another image with a time stamp that showed it was taken only twenty minutes ago, and retrieved the details to send to the team.

After the others had successfully received the photos, times and locations, Garcia paused to glance around the room. Her office was a world where pink, fluffy trinkets could exist alongside brutal murders and classified secrets. In this world there were just as many memories of nights out and birthdays, and practical jokes as there were of serial killers and dangerous stand-offs. Here, Emily and all the other members of her crime fighting family grinned out of picture frames, and in that moment, she promised herself that they would all smile again. And no other possibility would be allowed to be vocalised within a hundred feet of her lair.

It wasn't naiveté; it was having faith in the toughest woman she knew.

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Just under an hour's drive from where the agents based their search, a silver car was parked beside a small detached property on the edge of the woods. It had been the holiday home of one of his college girls; it hadn't been used since she'd seen the light and ended her messed up life. They'd find it eventually but if all went to plan it would be over before then.

Emily lay in the trunk of the car, frantically trying to find an escape, as the footsteps came closer. She was still too weak from the drugs to overpower him, especially when she was tied up. Before she had a chance to let her growing panic become overwhelming, the trunk popped open and she was met with the sight of her captor.

"We're home, Emily," he grinned. "Would you like to come inside?"

She ignored him, feigning greater drowsiness than she experienced. He produced the same knife he had held to Henry's throat and leaned over her tense body. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, preparing herself for pain. But it didn't come. Instead, the knife sliced through the bindings on her ankles and she found that her legs were free to move.

"Get up," he commanded.

Unwilling to take another risk that he would tire of his plan and immediately kill her, she wriggled into a sitting position and then swung her legs over the edge of the trunk. Keeping one hand on the knife, he grabbed hold of her and pulled her to her feet. He wasn't particularly strong, but she didn't try to resist.

"Into the house." He held the knife close to her body as he walked her towards the front door of the old building.

"What are you going to do to me?" Emily asked, when he led her through to the kitchen and sat her down at the table. She wasn't sure if she intended the question to be antagonistic or if she was fearfully requesting a genuine answer.

"Oh, Emily," he chuckled, interpreting only the fear from her question. "Don't look so worried – I'm not going to hurt you." She glanced up at him, confused by the statement. "You'll do it all by yourself," he added, and once again the last thing she felt, before she slumped forwards and closed her eyes, was a sharp scratch against her neck.


	21. Hold On Hope

**A/N: Real life was pretty busy over the weekend but here's the next chapter :) Thank you to all readers and reviewers - you are the reason I try to update as often as I can! Hope you like this update and humour my indulgence in a little Morgan and Garcia scene! As always, I'd love it if you left a review.**

Hotch stepped out of his office and into the bullpen with an especially serious expression on his face. The area looked empty with only Reid, Morgan and Rossi working at their desks. It was the day after Daniel Adams had taken Emily and the three male profilers were desperately grasping at any possible leads. They had spent so long with the files that Reid wasn't the only one who knew every detail by heart. JJ was still at home with Henry and Will, where everyone had insisted she should stay. If they needed her input then they had all means of technology at their fingertips to communicate her; there was no point in dragging her away from her distressed son in order to sit in the office, worrying about Emily and their lack of progress. It had been a long and slow day, where their concern for finding their friend had grown much faster than their chances of doing so. They had lost track of the car after the last traffic camera image and had issued an APB and, with some hesitation, provided the media with a description to circulate. Despite their efforts there had been no word from the public or any other agency. Until now.

Rossi was the first to notice Hotch looking down at them from the walkway outside of his office.

"What's wrong?" he asked, attracting the attention of the others.

Hotch moved to join his team by their desks before he responded.

"I've just received a call from a Detective John Wilson. Adams' car has turned up on an area of waste ground about thirty miles from the traffic camera where our trail went cold," he answered. The team silently processed this information.

"How did they find it?" Morgan asked.

"Two police officers were on patrol when they saw smoke rising from the area."

"The car was on fire?" Reid asked, though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Yes," Hotch nodded.

"Was there any sign of Emily?" Rossi questioned, indirectly enquiring as to whether there was anything to suggest Adams had disposed of their friend at the same time he had disposed of the car.

"There was no obvious sign of human remains in the vehicle," Hotch replied. It was far easier to avoid directly referring to Emily and to speak in general terms. "But the car was badly burnt by the time the fire service reached the scene. A forensics team are carrying out tests as we speak."

At Hotch's reply, Morgan jumped up from his seat and threw the chair back against the desk. He wasn't sure whether it was the uncertainty itself or the possibility of losing his friend which was getting to him the most, but it suddenly became too much for him to handle.

"Morgan…" Hotch began, in an attempt to calm his agent and stop him from storming off.

"The press should never have been given the description of the car," Morgan snapped, wishing his boss had just let him walk away. "All we've done is spook him."

"We don't know that he wouldn't have disposed of the car anyway," Hotch reasoned, though he wished he had complete faith in the decision they had made.

"Keep telling yourself that," Derek muttered, turning away from the unit chief, and from his other colleagues. He needed to leave before he said something he really regretted.

As Morgan walked away from the others without another word, smashing his fist into the wall as he went, Reid made to follow after him. However, Rossi laid a hand on his arm before he could move more than a few steps.

"Let him cool off," he instructed gently, and somewhat reluctantly, Reid returned to his desk.

Hotch sighed as his remaining agents awaited their instructions. He wasn't a sentimental man but he wished more than anything for the team to be reunited. Even when they were faced with the toughest cases they could at least depend on each other for relief. It didn't seem right to enter the bullpen without having to dodge one of Reid's "physics magic" rockets or listen to Emily and Morgan exchanging sarcastic jibes, while Rossi rolled his eyes, or share a knowing look with JJ when they had both been up half the night chasing away invisible monsters, only to be woken to deal with the real thing at work.

"Can you take a look at the scene where the car was found?" he asked. "Get a feel for the area and see if forensics have pulled up anything useful to work out where the car has been. We might be able to form a geographical profile if we have some more information."

Reid and Rossi nodded and immediately gathered their belongings and set off to the crime scene. Knowing that they would have their assigned part of the investigation under control, Hotch decided to address another pressing matter, and he headed to the office of the one person that he knew would be able to get through to Derek Morgan..

/  
/

Damn, hitting that wall had hurt! And he'd felt a little stupid after storming away from the others like some kind of sulky, hormonal teenager. He didn't really blame Hotch for anything that had happened; he didn't blame any of them. There had been no way of knowing whether releasing the details of the car to the press would help them find Emily or put her in greater danger. It had been a risk they had all agreed to accept, even if he had been reluctant to do so. And, as yet, they didn't even know what the result had been. Still, he was angry and upset and he needed to get it out of his system before it took his focus away from finding Emily.

He found himself in the gym. Typical jock. If Emily was here, and if the team wasn't slowly crumbling under pressure and fear, then someone would have teased him by now. Most likely, everyone would have teased him by now. A small smile flickered across his lips at the thought, but quickly faded as a lump formed in his throat. She had to come back to them; he couldn't imagine how they could ever recover if she didn't. Ignoring the hot sting of his eyes, he began to lay into the punching bag in front of him. He had wrapped his hands but wasn't wearing gloves; he wanted to feel the bag under his fists. His right hand – the one which had collided with the wall – throbbed at every contact with the bag. He ignored it and concentrated on the rhythm of his punches. But while he became oblivious to the pain in his hand, the lump in his throat just would not subside.

Ten minutes passed and Morgan still felt no better. His anger and frustration and the fear of losing his friend remained at an overwhelming level and he wondered if it would ever pass. Letting out a shout as he did so, he used all the strength he had to slam his already injured hand into the punching bag. It swung forward at an odd angle and he had to step to the side to avoid getting in its way as the momentum returned it towards him. It was then that be realised he was no longer alone in the gym.

"I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's not how you're meant to do it, hot stuff," Garcia informed him, giving him a weak smile as their eyes met. She was standing by some benches at the opposite side of the gym, clutching a small first aid kit in her hands, and watching every move that her best friend made.

"Baby girl, what you doing here?" he asked, his tone hovering uncomfortably between forced playfulness and hinting that he wanted to be alone. In truth he didn't know what he wanted.

"My spidey senses told me that Batman needed Robin," she answered, her tentative grin widening when he chuckled slightly and started to walk towards her.

"You're a special kind of crazy," he remarked. The smile sat uneasily on his face, as the lump in his throat and the prickling in his eyes persisted. But at least it was a smile.

"Sit!" she instructed, when he reached the benches. He did as he was told and she positioned herself beside him. The blood which seeped through the wrap around his right knuckles told her which hand was injured. "Why did you hit a wall? Walls are hard. Derek Morgan's hands are oh so soft and not made of bricks," she muttered, semi-seriously, as she carefully unwrapped his hand.

"How did you…?" he trailed off, wondering how she'd found out about that. "Hotch," he answered his own question.

"Yes, on this occasion our lovely boss man did mention your sudden dislike of inanimate objects. But honey," she paused to raise her eyebrows pointedly. "You should know by now that I am the all-seeing, all-knowing goddess of Quantico."

Morgan laughed again, feeling less like he was about to become the centre of an emotional explosion. Penelope Garcia was exactly what he needed right now. She gently took hold of his hand, examining his burst and bloodied knuckles with a frown.

"Do you even know what you're looking for?" he asked her with a soft smile. She turned her attention from his injury to his eyes and shook her head. "Nothing's broken," he assured her. He'd thrown enough punches to know exactly what a boxer's fracture felt like and, despite the pain and the blood and the swelling, he was certain his bones were intact this time around.

"It still looks nasty," she remarked, screwing up her face as she retrieved an antiseptic wipe from the first aid kit and started to clean away the blood. He flinched slightly at her touch but allowed her to work. "Are you OK?" she asked, when she touched a particularly tender area and he took a sharp intake of air.

"My hand's fine," he replied. She didn't fail to notice that the wavering smile had disappeared and his sad eyes were again the predominant feature on his face.

"And you?" she asked, her hands stopping their task but remaining around his. He gave no reply, as the tight ball of anger and fear positioned in his stomach regained intensity. "Derek, you know you can talk to me," she assured him, turning entirely serious. "Whatever you want to say; whatever you're feeling, I am always here." Her fingers curled around his, careful not to cause him any pain.

"I'm scared we're gonna lose her," he responded quietly, after a minute or so of quiet. He stared at his feet, not trusting himself to look at her in case it caused him to lose control.

"I know," Penelope agreed softly. "We're all scared. But do you know what someone told me?"

He glanced up, awaiting her reply, and she smiled slightly.

"Someone told me not to worry, and to stay strong and to believe that she'd be OK."

"You've got a smart friend," he grinned, recognising his own words.

"Don't I know it," she replied, mirroring his expression. She once again reached into the first aid kit and pulled out a strip of gauze which she proceeded to wind around his knuckles. "I only doubt it when he takes on brickwork with his fists," she quipped, as she secured the bandage.

"It won't happen again. Scouts honour," he promised cheekily, a slight twinkle returning to his eyes.

"Oh, it better not," she warned teasingly. "Or this fine tech kitten will never kiss your wounds better again," she added with a growl.

"You know I love you, right, baby girl?" he laughed, pulling her into a hug and kissing her forehead.

"I love you too," she replied, leaning against his chest. "And our girl is going to be fine – she's the toughest person I know."

"Tougher than me?" Derek asked, feigning offence.

"Even tougher than you, sugar," she answered with a wicked grin. "Plus she has the smarts not to punch things that are harder than her bones!"

/  
/

There was a moment between unconsciousness and becoming fully alert when Emily forgot everything that had happened. She pulled the covers up around her and sunk down into the bed as a groggy, nauseous feeling spread to her head and stomach. Hoping that it wasn't yet time to go to work, she tried to recall what had led her to feeling so rough. Garcia – it was always Garcia's idea to keep drinking beyond a reasonable hour. Which wasn't fair because the tech analyst could hide away in her lair while the rest of them had to endure their hangovers in the field or in long, stuffy meetings. Mentally plotting how to address her hangover, and how to get revenge on her blonde friend, she peeled back the covers and forced her eyes open, blinking in the light.

The room that greeted her was both her own and an entirely unfamiliar location. The colour of the walls, the position and style of the furniture, and even the duvet, which smelled of her favourite detergent, were the same as those she had chosen for her home. But the lighting was wrong; the window was different. And the room was a different size and shape from the bedroom in her apartment.

It only took a spilt second for her to remember that months had passed since the last night she had spent drinking with her friends. And as the reality of her situation flooded her mind, the nausea became too much and she vomited onto the floor beside the bed that wasn't really hers.

He had her – that was her reality. And he was going to make her doubt everything about herself and her surroundings all over again. If he just wanted her dead then he'd have done that already. Despite her fuzzy head, she was still able to think like a profiler. Adams might be gradually losing control, but his plan still required her perceptions to be so distorted that she would take her own life.

There was no doubt that her tormentor had the upper hand, but if she could manage to keep hold of what was real for long enough, then her friends and colleagues would find her. She wasn't giving up hope and she was certain they wouldn't either. And that would be her escape.

**A/N: Last section was originally part of the next chapter but after a delay of a few days, and because you are all awesome, I thought you deserved some proof of life!**


	22. Signal In The Sky

**A/N: I wasn't going to write much tonight because I'd hit a bit of a block. But I started organising my ideas and four hours later this happened. Guess my writer's block is gone! Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter and I hope you enjoy this one. I'm actually starting to feel sad that this story is almost at an end! **

**/  
/**

She heard his footsteps climbing the stairs and approaching the door, and she perched on the edge of her bed contemplating her options. Should she try to overpower him? She was physically stronger and at present only feeling minimal effects of the last drugs he had injected. She could knock him to the ground as he entered the room without too much effort. But he was likely to be armed with his knife and she wasn't confident that she would be able to simultaneously overpower him and avoid the blade. It would be stupid to cut short the time-frame for her friends to find her by bleeding out on the floor.

"They will find you; just ride this out," she told herself, deciding to stay put and endure whatever he had planned. She could take it; this time she was prepared for him.

"I hope you like your room, Emily," he smiled, stepping through the door with a knife in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. He immediately closed the door with his foot and she heard the click of the lock. "I brought you some coffee – it's your favourite."

"I'm not thirsty," she replied flippantly, without moving an inch from her position on the end of the bed.

"It's not optional," he stated, holding out the cup towards her.

She ignored the gesture. Inevitably he would find some way of drugging her, but every minute she could spend alert and fully conscious was another minute for the team to reach her.

"I want you to drink it," he continued.

In one swift action she reached out and knocked the cup from his hand. Its dark coloured contents splashed across the floor, staining the fabric of the rug and seeping into the floor boards. She watched as the liquid was absorbed and wondered what it would have done to her.

"Ungrateful bitch!" he spat. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around the knife, as his temper flared. He couldn't wait until this one was dead. It would be so easy just to stick the knife into her and get it over with. But that would be cheating and he had other ways of winning without doing that. This was his game and if she wouldn't play by the rules then he would just create new ones. Without another word, he exited the room to search for what he needed.

As the locks turned and the chains and latches were fastened on the other side of the door, Emily let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward to hold her head in her hands. She might have bought some time, but something told her that in other ways she had made things much worse for herself.

/  
/

While Emily awaited Adams' return, the team sat around the table in the conference room. A map covered in an assortment of coloured dots adorned the screen, on which all attention was fixed. But no one could interpret its meaning.

"So he's got multiple hunting areas, dumped the car on a random bit of waste ground and other than the apartment across from Emily's we have no last known address – does that sum it up?" Morgan remarked unhelpfully, as he flexed his hand under the carefully wrapped bandage.

Hotch sighed and, almost visibly, counted to ten to avoid responding with an equally unhelpful comment, which would only cause tensions to run higher than they already were. Garcia threw Morgan a look that warned him to behave. While the team were together again – even JJ was involved in the discussion via video call – their frustrations had only been exacerbated by the apparent failure of the geographical profile. Everyone was tired. Everyone was stressed. And everyone was in serious danger of being pushed over the edge by one ill thought out remark.

"I just mean that we don't have much to go on here," Morgan added, in a voice that told the others he wasn't being intentionally difficult.

"We know Emily wasn't in the car," Garcia commented. Since comforting Morgan she had found a renewed source of strength and was determined to keep her friends going for as long as it took to get to the dark haired profiler. "That's more than we knew earlier. Does that not tell you something?"

"It tells us he's maintaining some degree of control over his actions," JJ's voice responded from the laptop. "It doesn't look like he's spooked and killed her."

"We need to find a fresh angle to approach this from," Rossi thought aloud.

"Rossi's right," Reid agreed. "The geographical profile isn't useful unless we can identify possible locations where he could be holding Emily."

"Then where do we start?" Garcia asked, sitting up a little straighter and positioning her fingertips over her keyboard, ready to search for whatever they needed.

"He'll be somewhere he blends in or somewhere he can move around unseen," Hotch began. "He avoids confrontation with others whenever he can."

"He doesn't leave a paper trail," Morgan added. "So if he's renting then it'll be with a landlord who isn't bothered about ID and is happy to receive the rent in cash."

"He could be squatting somewhere," Reid suggested. "He pays attention to the details of his surroundings – he'd notice and empty property and take advantage of it. It could also explain why he's been able to disappear so easily."

"That's a possibility," Hotch nodded. "Garcia, can you bring up a list of deserted buildings within the outer boundary we identified on the map? Something might stick out as having a connection to Daniels."

She nodded and set to work, hoping her actions were going to bring them closer to finding their friend.

"That's going to be some list," Rossi commented. He didn't want to be negative but it was the truth.

"But it's a start," Morgan replied, with no trace of his earlier tone. Garcia flashed him a small smile in appreciation of his new found positivity. Rossi smiled too and nodded once.

"That it is," he agreed.

/  
/

He hadn't wanted to take this route. No, there were much more pleasant ways to achieve his goal. But just like she'd forced him to threaten the boy, her recent behaviour had led him to adopting quicker means. He'd always known he wouldn't have as long as he did with the others, but he'd hoped that she was still broken enough that a few days of feeling weak and ill would have been enough. But no, it seemed she had too much fight left for that.

His eyes skimmed over the array of small packages in front of him. They contained different variations and forms of the same drug. This was new to him; he'd done his research but he still didn't know what was best. It was such a special drug – a much faster way to win the game. She'd lose her mind as soon as it started to work. He just had to decide exactly how to give it to her.

His finger hovered over the first package and a childish grin crept onto his face.

"Eenie, meenie, miney, mo…"

/  
/

The list of abandoned or deserted properties in their search area was at least as long as the team had anticipated. It had taken Garcia some time to compile – there was no comprehensive database she could access to find this information. But after several long hours she had done it. From police reports on break ins, to the listings on estate agents' websites, and everything in between she had pulled together the closest thing to a complete list of uninhabited properties that was possible. And for several more long hours, each member of the team, and all the other agents and police officers they could recruit, had been pouring over their allocated sections of the list.

"I think I've got something," Reid announced with a hint of disbelief in his dry and tired voice. As was expected, he had covered more of the list than anyone else and had committed more addresses to memory than he could ever have imagined.

The others looked up from their desks at the young agent's words. A tense and stifling silence had long ago descended on the room and the sound had not been expected. Hotch, grimacing as he moved his stiff neck, reached out to view the piece of paper which Reid extended towards him. As he took in the name of the owner of the property in question he felt a surge of adrenaline begin to course through his body.

"I think you have," he breathed, hardly daring to believe the possibility.

/  
/

It was already dark by the time Emily heard movement heading towards her room. The window in the room, while sealed shut and providing no possibility of escape, allowed her to see outside. All she could see was the dense wooded area which surrounded the property. She was sure she could hear a road somewhere in the distance but there was no visible sign of life. And now that it was dark all that met her were shades of black. On the overcast night she couldn't find a single star in the sky.

When he joined her in the room she wouldn't even turn to face him. Instead, she remained in the chair by the window, with her feet tucked under her body, and stared at the dark curtain of the night sky above them. She tried to imagine what was going on behind the veil of clouds; she tried to picture the constellations that were always there, even if she couldn't see them at that particular moment.

"Emily," he called, his voice low and quiet. "It's time you took a _trip_." He chuckled at his own joke.

Still turning her face towards the sky, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Somewhere up there the stars were shining. She didn't have to see them to know that. Just like she didn't need to see her team to know that they were putting everything into finding her.

She just hoped the cloud would clear soon.


	23. The Land Of Make Believe

**A/N: Thanks as always for the support with this story :) Apologies for the slight delay in updating, but I think I'd be a little disturbed if I'd managed to write this really quickly! I hate to think what my internet history looks like after all the research I did for this chapter but I hope that makes it a little more accurate. **

**Anyway, I really hope you like this one and please leave me a review to let me know what you think. Also, bonus points if you spot the Vonnegut reference, which would have been included elsewhere if some things reviewers said hadn't convinced me otherwise!**

**/  
/**

He busied himself preparing the room while she watched his reflection in the dark glass. Little bursts of light sprang to life, quivering against the blackness, as he lit the candles he had placed on every surface. The first few notes of Bach's Cello Suite No. 1 filled the air, as he pressed a button on the speakers, to which her own ipod was connected. She hadn't even noticed it was missing until then.

"Emily," he called, over the sound of the music. "You can turn around now; everything is perfect."

Still watching the version of the scene as it was reflected in the window, she saw him placing two long stemmed glasses and a dark bottle of wine on the chest at the end of the bed. He produced a small bag from his pocket and tipped its white, powdery contents into one of the glasses. Then he opened the bottle and poured the deep red liquid, swirling the glass containing the powder to ensure it was well mixed.

"They will always remember your death," he remarked, poignantly as he took a sip of the non-laced drink. "I've made sure of that. No one will know whether to grieve your passing or be glad that your suffering has come to such a fitting end."

From the moment she had first escaped, he had decided that the end had to be special. There would be no grimy shower cubicle or frayed length of rope for Emily Prentiss. She had been a worthy opponent, and though she would come to understand what she had to do in the end, he would make sure that she had the death she deserved.

"It's time to drink," he instructed, stepping towards her, holding the gleaming blade, which he had retrieved from his waistband, and the glass of wine which was intended for her. His pale face grew larger in the window until he came to a halt by her shoulder and he offered her the glass. "It will all be over soon."

She glanced between the two objects, wondering which would take longer to kill her. He'd said trip – that suggested the white powder was some kind of hallucinogen rather than a poison. But he obviously intended it to lead to her death eventually. Her mind returned to her earlier question – could she overpower him? And in the next second she made her decision.

/  
/

"How sure are we that this is where he's holding her?" Rossi asked, emerging level headed and sensible from the stunned silence which had followed the news that Reid had found a possible location.

"It would make sense," Reid replied. "There's a connection between Adams and the property. But…" he trailed off.

"We haven't even got through the list," JJ's voiced completed. She was working from home on her section of the list and was on speaker-phone to the others, who were again situated around the table in the conference room. "There might be other connections; this could just be the first possibility."

"But we have to check this place out," Morgan insisted. As far as he was concerned they were wasting time discussing the matter.

"Of course we do," Hotch agreed. "But we can't assume that she's there. We have to keep checking for other possibilities."

"Then let me and Rossi head to the house. We can check it out, and Reid, Garcia and JJ can keep working on the lists," Morgan suggested. He was already on his feet and ready to leave; he needed to feel like he was heading towards Emily, rather than sitting at a desk surrounded by endless papers and dead ends.

"OK," Hotch agreed with a nod. "But I want to come with you," he added. It was inexplicable, but his gut feeling told him that they had the right address. Throughout this case he had forced himself to act as the unit chief rather than as Emily's friend. Now, when the number of moves they could make was limited by time, he had to put an element of trust in his personal beliefs. He had made sure that other potential avenues had not been abandoned, but he also needed to follow his gut. He had to do everything he could to reunite his family.

/  
/

It wasn't immediately clear to her where she had gone wrong, but suddenly she was falling hard onto her back. Her head bounced off of the wooden floor and his weight settled on top of her.

"C-c-can't…b-bre-eathe," she gasped, as he crushed her chest and restricted her breathing. He was deceptively heavy.

"You shouldn't have done that!" he hissed, as she struggled beneath him.

The knife lay several feet away from them. In one swift movement she had knocked it from his grasp; but in turn he had knocked her from the chair. Between his size and her skill, his desire for her to die and her will to survive, they were about equally matched when it came to hand to hand combat. But now that his weight bore down on her body, he had the upper hand.

Somehow, perhaps through sheer will, he had managed to keep a firm grasp on the stem of the glass. The red wine splashed over the edges and onto Emily's skin. He pressed himself closer to her, reducing the momentum of her struggles and allowing easier access to her mouth. Her eyes widened as his fingers firmly pinched her nose; with the pressure on her chest, she'd surely suffocate before the drug took effect.

"No!" she gasped, turning her head and trying to suck in as much air as possible before the cool glass brushed her lips. She quickly closed her mouth as it did so, and pressed her lips tightly together. Her peripheral vision blurred into darkness as she simultaneously held her breath and kicked against him. Wine splashed into her eyes and trickled into the indent of her pursed lips, as he struggled to keep the glass steady, while maintaining his grasp on her nose.

"Stop it!" he commanded, as she continued to lash out beneath his body. "You're ruining it!"

In the end it was her own reflexes which betrayed her. Her traitorous lungs, desperate for oxygen, forced open her lips, and she greedily gasped in the air. Of course, he was ready for this, and before she could react the rim of the glass clinked against her teeth and the dark liquid poured into her mouth and began to trickle down her throat. She tried not to swallow; she coughed and spluttered and fought against it. But she needed to breathe, and once again, her body reacted instinctively. She gulped down the wine which had pooled in her mouth, and took another breath.

"Please," she coughed, begging both Adams and any God that might be listening to give her a chance.

But the remaining contents of the glass were soon forced between her lips as the process repeated itself. She could feel the powdery residue of the drug on the inside of her mouth.

He discarded the now empty glass, and focussed all his attention on restraining Emily. It would take a little while before the drugs had their desired effect.

Exhausted and frightened, Emily gazed up at the satisfied expression in his eyes. Realising the futility of expending energy on the struggle, her limbs stopped flailing.

As she lay still and listened to the frantic cellos, which continued to play from the speakers, one thought filled her mind.

Oh God, she was going to die.

/  
/

"Scopolamine! He bought scopolamine!" Garcia's urgent voice erupted from the cell phone and filled the SUV, which was speeding along the deserted night-time roads under Morgan's careful control.

"Calm down, Garcia," Hotch replied. "How did you find that out?"

"I've been running searches in case he made any online transactions under his real name – I didn't expect anything to turn up but it did," she explained, without taking a breath.

"He definitely isn't trying to cover his tracks anymore; he knows this is almost over," Rossi remarked. Though they were almost certain abducting Emily signalled that Adams was moving towards his endgame, the fact he had left the first hint of a paper trail in well over a year firmly confirmed their suspicions.

"That's the zombie drug, right?" Morgan asked, willing the SUV to travel faster.

"It's sometimes considered the zombie drug or a mind control drug, as it can cause the user to become incredibly open to suggestion. It's suspected to have been used in forcing others to commit criminal offences and was trialled as a truth serum," Reid's voice responded. He had obviously joined Garcia in her lair following the discovery. "But its effects can be unpredictable and it can cause psychotic episodes," he added.

"So your saying this drug could either let him force Emily to hurt herself or drive her completely crazy?" Morgan questioned, unsure which was worse.

"Yes," Reid confirmed. "And there are other side effects which could be dangerous : increased heart rate, dizziness, blurred vision…"

"Did you find a delivery address?" Hotch asked, interrupting Spencer before he unintentionally scared his colleagues any further."

"Yes," Garcia replied quickly. She had been so caught up in her concern over Adams' plans for Emily that she had forgotten the one piece of good news she had for her team. "You're heading straight to it."

/  
/

Not long after she stopped struggling against Adams, Emily began to feel light-headed . She lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as she gradually became less aware of the pressure he was applying to her body to keep her restrained. And after an unknown period of time had passed she realised that neither the pressure, nor Adams, was there.

Slowly, she sat up, glancing around the room and struggling to focus her eyes. She seemed drawn towards the flames of the candles, and almost involuntarily, she reached out towards those nearest to her. Her hand quickly recoiled as the flame morphed into a serpent and angrily attempted to strike. Now wary of her surroundings, she crawled backwards across the floor until the solid wood of the bed frame pressed into her back.

"How are you feeling, Emily?" asked a voice from behind her.

Clumsily she sprang to her feet and turned around. Sitting on the chair in front of the dresser, at the far side of her room, was an unfamiliar male figure. He spoke to her from a haze of cigarette smoke, which drifted above the serpent flames and angered the beasts.

"They don't like that," she mumbled, pointing towards the snakes.

"Who doesn't like what?" he asked, looking towards the perfectly harmless candles.

Emily ignored his question, suddenly noticing the brightness of the blurs of colour around her. She looked up to the ceiling, tipping her head back as far as it could go, and watching the kaleidoscope swirl above. After a while she straightened up and stumbled. He was right beside her as she did so.

"Emily, you're not very well. Sit down before you hurt yourself," the faceless man instructed, and she took the few steps towards the bed and sat down. A few moments later the man joined her, but she was too distracted by the appearance of another figure in the corner to pay him any attention.

"Mother?" she questioned, as the dark haired woman turned to face her.

"Emily, why haven't you introduced me to your friend? You're being rude," her mother chastised.

"I-I don't know who he is," Emily replied. "He has no face," she added in a whisper.

"Emily, he can hear you!" the older woman scolded.

Emily turned back towards the faceless man, who seemed unfazed by her remark and simply twirled the handle of a knife between his fingers.

"I don't think he did," Emily replied, but her mother was no longer in the corner of the room. Her mind quickly became preoccupied by another thought.

"Where's Sergio?" she asked aloud, scanning helplessly around the room, her eyes once again refusing to focus. If she was in her apartment then her cat should be here. And he wouldn't like the snakes. Suddenly, the figure of the black cat emerged before her eyes. Unmoving. Dead. And with a sign hanging from his neck, reading "MEOW".

"Who killed my cat?" she exclaimed.

"You killed your cat," hissed one of the serpent candles.

"Emily, you really are very unwell," the voice of the faceless man informed her, as he took hold of her arm and guided her back to the bed. "Now, I need you to listen very carefully to me." She looked directly at him, staring intently towards the blur of flesh where there should have been eyes. "I want you to take this knife." He passed the handle of the blade towards her and she took it with a weak, shaking hand. "And I want you to cut here," he continued, tracing a finger across her forearm.

"Why?" she asked, maintaining her trembling grip on the knife.

"You want out of here, don't you?" he replied.

She caught sight of the fiery snakes as they were reflected in the mirror and nodded.

"Then make the cut and it'll all be over," he assured her.

Emily placed the blade where she had been instructed and gently pressed it to her skin.

"No!" shouted a familiar voice, though it was muffled, as though coming from outside. She looked up from her arm and towards the dark window, where JJ's form floated, ghostly white and almost translucent beyond the glass. She dashed across the room, stumbling as she went, to reach her friend.

Upon reaching the window, the floating figure had morphed into Reid. She stopped in her tracks and stared at the young genius.

"Spencer, what should I do?" she asked.

"I can't answer that, Emily," he replied.

"But you always have the answers!" she exclaimed. Her heart was beating faster, and no longer felt like a part of her body.

"It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you," he stated cryptically and uselessly, before his eyes became balls of fire and his body faded away. She was left staring at the reflection of the snakes in the window. And the faceless man appeared once again.

"Come on now, Emily. We don't have much time."

She stared at the knife in her hand and at the line he had traced on her arm. It seemed to sparkle with the same colours as the kaleidoscopic ceiling. The man wrapped his hand around the wrist attached to the hand which held the knife.

"You can do it, Emily," he coaxed and the music, which had been playing continuously in the background, began to swell.


	24. Save Me

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter - they really motivated me to press on with this one! And I can't believe this story has 85 followers! Thank you so much for reading! I'm planning two or three more chapters after this one and then it'll be finished. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy this update and feel free to let me know what you think :)**

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The SUV skidded to a halt outside of the house. Though neither Rossi nor Hotch would say anything to Morgan, they were rather relieved to be out of the car in one piece. They had rarely seen him drive so fast or take so many risks. He had always remained in control but there were a few moments when they had found themselves holding their breath.

Looking up at the house from the outside, only one room appeared to be lit. A warm glow emitted from the window situated above the front door. They watched for any signs of life in the room, but all was still except from the flickering light.

"I'll take the back; you two go in the front," Hotch instructed, fastening his Kevlar vest and taking the safety off his weapon. Morgan and Rossi were doing the same. "We'll clear the downstairs and then move towards that room." He nodded towards the illuminated window, holding his gaze in the hope of seeing some sort of movement.

As they made their way into the dark property they shared a feeling of apprehension at what they might find. What if they were too late? They had to prepare themselves for the possibility that they would be recovering Emily's body rather than coming to her rescue.

Trying to put that idea out of their heads, they cleared the downstairs rooms and hallways one by one, and then quietly and cautiously began to climb the stairs towards the candlelit room.

/  
/

Drip. Drip. Drip. She didn't know where the noise was coming from but its steady rhythm was oddly comforting. It was slow and constant. Like a clock. Not that time was a concept which made any sense to her anymore. She pulled her knees closer to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Minutes passed; or maybe it was hours. The blade on the floor glinted in the light and the splashes and smears of red stood out against the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Was any of it even real?

/  
/

The door to the room was locked, but fuelled by adrenaline and his desperate need to get inside, Morgan made short work of kicking it open. By now anyone inside would be aware of the agents' presence in the house.

Morgan's confident stance waivered slightly at the sight which greeted him. The bedroom, which bore a disturbing resemblance to Emily's, showed clear signs of a struggle. One of the bedside cabinets was overturned and the lamp, which had once rested on top, lay on the floor, flickering on and off as the damaged cables failed.

From the light given out by the many candles dotted around the room, the agents were able to see an array of stains on the floor, walls and furnishing. Two wine glasses lay smashed over the dark wooden floorboards and the pale rug was marked where their contents had splashed and spilled. The walls were also marked with red, but the handprints and smears seemed, disturbingly, to be traces blood rather than wine.

"They must be in there," Rossi whispered, indicating the door through to the en-suite bathroom, which was slightly ajar and allowed a slither of bright light to penetrate the dim room.

"I'll go first," Morgan insisted, feeling another surge of his intense need to reach Emily. After Doyle, he'd sworn that he'd never take her for granted again, but as they'd become caught up in work and their own lives, that was exactly what happened. All he wanted now was another chance to appreciate the woman who had his back every single day.

/  
/

Emily closed her eyes, trying to block out the creatures that had joined her in the bright, white room. She'd left the snakes behind in the bedroom, and though the faceless man had followed after her, he too seemed to have retreated. But standing in the centre of the room was an angel, like those she remembered from the walls of Catholic churches in Italy. It seemed to be calling out to her; reciting the Latin verses she had long forgotten. And its eerie voice was soon joined by another.

Even with her eyes closed, the voices would not stop.

_"__Look at the blood. So much blood. What did you do, Emily? What did you do?"_

The voice alternated between that of her mother and those of her colleagues and friends. It was hard to distinguish who was speaking but the message was the same. They were disgusted and disappointed; she had done wrong. She would never be forgiven.

_"__Non facias malum ut inde fiat bonum," _sounded the voice of the angel, as Emily felt the sticky red substance drying on her fingertips. What had she done?

_"Emily! Emily!"_

She closed her eyes tighter, leaning heavily against the cool side of the bathtub. One hand felt around for the knife, which she knew was nearby. Why wouldn't they leave her alone?

/  
/

Gun drawn and ready, Morgan slowly opened the door towards the bathroom. He drew a sharp breath as he took in the state of the room. There had been a lot of blood in the bedroom but this room resembled the scene of a massacre. The white surfaces only caused the red handprints and splashes to be even more prominent. The mirror was smashed, as was the shower enclosure, and small pieces of glass glistened and reflected the red and white.

And in the middle of all the destruction were the subjects of their search.

Morgan moved slowly towards the man, who lay bloody and unmoving on the floor. Quickly touching two fingers to his neck, he confirmed what he already knew. He glanced back at Hotch and Rossi and shook his head, before continuing towards Emily.

She was slumped against the bathtub, with her knees pulled up to her chest. One arm seemed to be holding her in position, while the other dangled limply by her side, hovering inches away from the knife. She too was covered in blood, and Morgan was immediately aware of the crimson trail which trickled from the crook of her arm into a small puddle on the floor.

"Emily," he called gently, unsure if she was conscious and not wanting to startle her.

At the sound of his voice, she reached for the knife and tightened her fingers around the handle. Hotch and Rossi made to enter the room, but Morgan shook his head and raised his palm, indicating that they should remain where they were. As he focussed his attention on Emily, he heard Hotch radio for an ambulance.

"Emily, it's Derek," he told her, keeping his voice soft and even. "Can you put the knife down, Princess?" he asked, sliding his gun back into its holster.

Slowly, Emily turned her head towards him, still clutching the blade in her shaking hand. Her face matched the rest of her body and clothing and was covered in smears of blood and an assortment of cuts and bruises. But it was her eyes which caused greatest alarm to her friend. She gazed at him with a wild and frightened look, emphasised by her dilated pupils, and was barely recognisable as herself.

"Make them stop," she mumbled, fearfully, as her erratic gaze darted around the room.

"You're OK," he assured her, crouching down on the floor and moving ever closer.

Her frightened look turned to one of recognition, as her eyes finally came to rest on his, and the knife fell from her hand, clattering onto the tiles. Quickly, Morgan reached out and pushed it across the floor to the other side of the room.

"Are you really here?" she asked, in a quiet and unsure voice. She extended her arm towards him, as though she was reaching out to wave her hand through a hologram. He took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm really here," he confirmed, giving her a reassuring smile.

To everyone's surprise she lunged towards him, collapsing against his chest. He immediately wrapped one arm around her waist, supporting her apparently weak body, and with the other hand he began to stroke the back of her messy dark hair. She flinched away from his touch and he withdrew his hand to see his fingers stained red.

"It's just a little bump," he reassured her, repositioning his hand away from her injury.

"They won't forgive me; you won't forgive me," she babbled in a frantic whisper, as she hid her face against his chest.

Hotch and Rossi exchanged a worried glance - Emily's mind was so far from reality that they didn't know what to do.

"It'll be OK," Morgan soothed, forcing his voice to sound convincing. "We've got you, Prentiss. Just hang in there."

Outside, the sound of sirens grew nearer, but no one in the room felt reassured. It was going to take more than any medic could do to fix what had happened to Emily.

/  
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**_Non facias malum ut inde fiat bonum _roughly means don't do wrong/evil to achieve something right, and it relates to the final struggle I have planned for the last few chapters.  
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	25. White Horse

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews of the last chapter and to everyone that's reading. **

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Emily's behaviour was similar to that of a scared animal as she sat in the ambulance, and then the ER, and an assortment of paramedics, doctors and nurses attempted to treat her. She flinched away from everyone who tried to touch her or clean her wounds and backed away from things that no one else could see. Derek couldn't even imagine what demonic hallucinations were filling her world.

"I just want to go home," Emily pleaded, making one of few lucid remarks, as she sat on a bed in a curtained bay of a busy ER

"You're pretty beat up, Emily," Morgan replied. "How about staying here until the doctors are happy for you to leave?"

Morgan was more aware of of Emily's injuries than most of the medical staff. After accepting that he was real and not another hallucination, she had been rather reluctant to be separated from him, and she was extremely wary of anyone else touching her. As a result he had helped to settle her in the ambulance and clean away some of the blood. Thankfully, a great deal of it seemed to have been from Adams, but she had her own share of cuts and bruises and the bloody clump of matted hair at the back of her head suggested she'd hit it pretty hard.

"I need to sleep and it's too loud here," she frowned, pulling agitatedly at the edges of the blanket which was wrapped around her shoulders.

"You can't sleep yet anyway; you need a CT scan first," Morgan reminded her, though he doubted she remembered anything that the paramedics or doctors had told her so far. He was also unsure how exactly they intended to convince Emily to lie still for a scan, when at random intervals, she could be found brushing imaginary creatures away from her body.

A young doctor joined them in the bay, pushing aside the curtain and mumbling something about needing to take some blood. From his uneasy manner and his apparent obliviousness to the need to tread carefully with Emily, Derek discerned he was an intern.

As soon as the doctor approached with the needle in his gloved hand, Emily backed up against the metal rail of the bed with a look of panic in her eyes. Morgan quickly got to his feet and stood behind her, steadying her and stopping her from falling over the edge of the rail.

"Emily, it's OK," he soothed. He'd spoken those words so frequently in the last few hours that they no longer had any meaning. "The doctor didn't mean to startle you," he added, pointedly, glaring at the nervous man in the ill-fitting white coat. It wasn't really the doctor's fault but Morgan had very little patience for anyone who aggravated Emily's ordeal.

Emily relaxed a little at Morgan's reassurance and, though still wary, settled down on the bed and allowed the doctor to approach. All the time, Morgan remained at her side, with a grounding hand pressed gently on her shoulder. It was going to be a long night, but as long as Emily continued to see him as a source of protection from whatever was frightening her, he would be there. And eventually, morning would come around.

/  
/

It did take until the following morning before Emily could be described as fully alert to her surroundings. Once the doctors were sure that she wasn't bleeding into her skull, she was allowed to sleep. Morgan had convinced the hospital staff to allow him to stay with her as she rested. From the moment she'd reached out towards him from the blood streaked bathroom floor, he'd felt personally responsible for her safety and wellbeing, and he couldn't seem to make himself leave the hard, plastic chair by her bed.

While Morgan had stayed with Emily, the others had been finishing up the case. They were all eager to keep Emily out of the procedure and formalities which would follow Adams' death, to the greatest extent that was possible. Hotch in particular had made it his personal mission to ensure all that remained was for his agent to give her statement to the police. In the course of their work they had all seen the recording Adams had made of Emily's time in his captivity, and by morning everyone but Emily herself knew exactly what had happened.

"Morgan," she groaned, opening her eyes and feeling slightly disoriented by her sterile and bright surroundings.

"Hey, Princess," he smiled, relieved to see that she was watching him through normal sized pupils.

"How… how did I get here?" she asked. The patchy memories of Morgan wiping blood from her hands, and repeatedly telling her that she would be OK, told her that she had been conscious, but she had no recollection of arriving at the hospital.

"We worked out where Adams was holding you, and Rossi, Hotch and I found you. You don't remember?" he asked. She shook her head, feeling a dull ache spread across the back of her skull, and winced.

"Is it a safe assumption that I hit my head?" she asked, with a humourless chuckle. At her own words she remembered her struggle with Adams after she had disarmed him.

Derek found his concern growing at her apparent inability to recall anything that had happened.

"Don't look so worried, Morgan. It's just a concussion, right?" Emily continued, becoming unsettled by the look of alarm on his face.

"Emily, you don't have a concussion," he explained, with a slight sigh.

"That's a good thing… No?" she puzzled.

"It is," he agreed, though he couldn't help but think how much easier a concussion would be to deal with.

"Then what's wrong?" she demanded, becoming exasperated. She was already confused and his odd behaviour only made her feel worse.

"You really don't remember anything?"

"No!" she snapped. "I really don't."

"He drugged you again," Morgan explained with some reluctance. "He used scopolamine. It's…"

"I know what it is," she cut him off. "What happened? What did I do?"

"He wanted you to kill yourself," Morgan began. "He gave you a knife and told you where to cut."

Emily suddenly noticed that her left arm was bandaged and, as she moved it, she could feel the pull of the stitches underneath.

"And I did it?" she queried. She knew about the effects of the drug – the apparent mind control properties – but she still couldn't comprehend it happening to her.

"Sort of," Morgan replied. "You made a cut, but then you and Adams ended up in a struggle. That's where your other injuries come from. He smashed your head into a mirror."

"But you've got him?" Emily asked, fear flickering across her eyes as though she expected Adams to appear in the room at any moment.

"Not exactly," he responded, carefully.

"Will you give me a straight answer?" she sighed impatiently. Derek's desire to protect her was only causing her greater frustration. "I can tell you're hiding something. Is Daniel Adams in custody?"

"He's dead," Morgan stated, and Emily's expression of increasing irritation fell into one of shock.

"Dead?" she repeated, as her brain tried to piece together her own broken memories with the clues Derek's behaviour and answers had given her. "I…" she began, a look of realisation dawning over her face. The blood on her hands. Morgan's unease. It all made sense. "I killed him?"

Morgan could see the array of emotions that flashed across her face. Surprise. Upset. Worry. Guilt.

"Emily, it was self-defence – he abducted you; he wanted you dead." He knew it would be hard for her to process the fact that she had killed someone and had no memory of the event. It was hard enough when they had to take down a suspect, and he couldn't imagine how difficult it would be without the knowledge that the decision was rationally made and a last resort.

"I want to be on my own," she muttered quietly, after a moment of silence.

"You were out of your mind with the drugs he gave you. You had no other option and it's a miracle that…"

Get out!" she shouted, turning away from him before the tears escaped her eyes.

Derek wanted to protest and stay with her. He'd been there for hours and now, when he wanted more than ever to help her, he was reluctant to leave. But he saw that she was struggling. Emily didn't cry in front of anyone. In fact, she rarely let her emotions overpower her calm exterior. She was the queen of compartmentalisation and an incredibly private person. And he could tell that now, she wanted to process by herself.

"I'll be outside if you need me," he told her quietly, resisting the urge to kiss her forehead or give her some other reminder of how much she was loved. He wouldn't let on that he'd seen those tears, but that didn't mean he wasn't feeling her pain.

/  
/

"Is Emily OK?" Reid asked worriedly, as Morgan emerged into the corridor, where the some of the others were waiting for an update, and continued towards the nearest exit.

"Morgan?" Hotch called after his agent, causing him to spin round to face them.

"No, she's not OK!" he responded. "After months of being stalked and drugged, she was abducted and put through that mental torture – you've all seen the recording! And she just found out that she killed someone but can't remember it happening. How could she possibly be OK?" He leaned heavily on his balled fist, which he pressed against the wall, while the others contemplated his outburst.

"I think I'm gonna get a coffee. You coming, hot stuff?" Garcia asked after a long minute passed, getting to her feet and breaking the silence which followed Morgan's words. She could tell that he was hurting again and she knew he'd an especially rough night keeping watch over Emily. He needed some time away from everyone else.

"Sure thing, mama," he replied, forcing a smile and in the process managing to calm himself down. He took hold of the arm she offered to him.

"She'll be OK," Garcia reassured him with a gentle squeeze of his arm, as they headed towards the cafeteria. "This is Emily we're talking about. And we're all here for her," she smiled encouragingly.

He returned Penelope's smile and allowed her to babble on about the things she planned to do for Emily. But at the back of his mind lurked the image of Emily's wild expression and frightened eyes, and the sound of her distraught voice as she ordered him out of the hospital room. He wished he had Garcia's confidence that cupcakes and flowers would make a meaningful difference to that distorted version of their friend.


	26. Home

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and thanks for reading. I considered ending with this chapter, but I have one more to go, so that I can tie up all loose ends. Hope you like this one - it was written several times before I got to this version!**

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It was only eight hours later that Emily found herself curled up in a ball on the sofa in Hotch's office. Just eight hours since she had shouted at Morgan to leave her hospital room. But she felt as though it had been a week. Over the course of the day she'd seen so many different people and moved between so many places that she was mentally and physically exhausted. Yet still she could not sleep.

Every time Emily closed her eyes, the day seemed to replay in her head. She saw the flashes of the camera as her injuries were photographed and she felt her doctor's cold hands as he examined her before she was allowed to leave the hospital. Hotch's voice sounded reassuringly in her ears as he assured her that no prosecutor in their right mind would bring charges against her for Daniel Adams' death, and that the police interview was just a formality. He had been right, but that didn't stop him staying with her while she gave her statement and answered a seemingly endless series of questions. All the time his he'd kept a hand protectively on the back of her chair, or resting comfortingly on her knee.

In the hospital and after she and Hotch had finally returned to Quantico, the others had taken their turns to show Emily that they were there for her. Of course she appreciated their concern but that didn't mean that they had made her feel any better. If anything, her feelings of guilt and unease grew with the assortment of unusual behaviour and kindness with which she was met. Reid had been unusually quiet, and Garcia had simply cried as she tightly hugged her friend. Rossi had kissed her head and reminded her that he was there for her if she ever wanted to talk. He had even offered his cabin as a place for her to recover from her ordeal. Morgan had been unnecessarily apologetic; somehow trying to take the blame for Emily's upset at the hospital. In her unsettled state of mind, she had forgotten even to thank him for staying with her through the previous night.

While her friends seemed only able to express their gratefulness that she had survived, Emily couldn't help but wonder if Adams had been the true winner. Her memory was returning in flashes, though she had been warned that she may never recall all the events of the night, and she could feel the sticky handle of the knife in her hand and see herself plunging the blade into Adams' chest. Multiple times. Why didn't she stop? And if she could do that, what made her mind so different from the twisted minds of those they hunted?

Maybe it hadn't been in the way he intended, but he had succeeded in changing her. He was gone and she was still scared. And worse than being scared of him, she was now scared of her own capabilities and of reality rather than of the manipulations and mind games he had created. The words of her hallucinations became those of her own thoughts.

_"Emily, what have you done?"_

She closed her eyes tightly and rubbed her temples, trying to will away the intense headache which was accompanying her exhaustion and self-loathing. All she wanted was for it to stop – she'd give anything to numb every sensation she was experiencing.

JJ entered the office, knocking softly on the door frame as she did so. Emily heard, but chose not to look up. Henry's terrified face took the place of Adams' bloody corpse in the slideshow of images in her mind, and she felt a fresh wave of guilt. JJ frowned as she took in the sight of Emily looking so vulnerable and distressed in her position on the sofa. The unnatural stillness and irregular breathing told her that, though her eyes were closed, the other woman was indeed awake.

"Emily, I know you're not really sleeping," JJ said, settling herself beside her friend. As though to reassure the brunette that it was OK to open her eyes, she gently smoothed Emily's hair away from her face. "That's better," she smiled when Emily blinked, and hesitantly turned to face her.

"JJ, I'm so sorry," the dark haired profiler choked, as her gaze connected with that of her closest friend. "Henry… I…"

JJ cut off Emily's tearful apology with a shake of her head.

"You protected him; you risked your life for my son. You have nothing to apologise for." Her voice quivered as the feeling she had experienced upon discovering Henry in his room flooded her mind.

"But I…"

"Don't you dare ," JJ responded fiercely, gripping onto Emily's hand as though sheer will alone would drag her friend out of the dark hole she seemed to be descending into. "Henry is alive and so are you, and that is all that matters."

"I killed him," Emily stated, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I turned the knife on him and then…" She paused, her eyes glazing over as though she was back in that moment. "I just couldn't stop. I did it again and again and…" Her voice trailed off and she stared at a single spot on the floor. "Overkill," came her next mumbled word. "I'm no better than him. He won."

"Emily, sit up and look at me," JJ commanded, her voice stern but not unkind.

Emily, surprised by the fierceness of her voice, obeyed, and allowed JJ to pull her upright and out of the foetal position. The blonde took hold of her hands and looked into her eyes with the kind of intense emotion that Emily imagined she usually saved for Henry and Will.

"Daniel Adams was a sadistic killer who ruined countless lives. He held a knife to my child's throat and he nearly took you from us. I am thankful that he is dead. And I am even more thankful that after everything he did to you, you were strong enough to save yourself."

She stopped to take a breath and control the lump in her throat which was threatening to prevent her speaking the rest of the words that Emily needed to hear. Emily found herself tightening her fingers around JJ's. It was unclear who was comforting whom.

"You didn't kill him; you saved yourself. You saved so many other women who might not have had your strength. And you saved Henry."

JJ's cheeks were damp with tears and she was now watching Emily through blurry eyes. Emily was silent as she too felt tears flowing freely from her eyes.

"I know you feel guilty and I know you don't believe a word I am saying just now, but I am going to say the same thing every day until you believe it. Whether you knew what you were doing or not, you saved lives. You are a good person. OK?" she finished, widening her eyes and squeezing Emily's hands.

"OK," Emily whispered, nodding so slightly that it was barely a recognisable gesture. Inside the knot of guilt and disgust remained, but as long as JJ was holding her hands and her gaze with such force, she could believe that one day it might not be so strong.

The two women fell into silence but were soon interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Immediately, they turned around to see Will standing in the doorway with Henry in his arms.

"Sorry to interrupt," Will smiled sheepishly. He hadn't expected there to be quite so many tears. "We just wanted to stop by and see how you two ladies were doin', right buddy?" He turned to look at his son, who was hiding his face against his father's shoulder, and the boy nodded.

"Henry's been desperate to see you," JJ informed Emily, as she used her sleeve to wipe away her tears.

"We all have," Will added, setting Henry on the ground and crossing the room towards his wife and her friend. He kissed Emily's cheek and then pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he said quietly before he released her from his hold.

Emily simply nodded and gave Will a small smile, before her attention was taken by a tugging on her sleeve. Her smile widened, and momentarily spread to her eyes, as Henry squeezed into the space between herself and JJ.

"I made this for you," he grinned, somewhat shyly, as he extended a piece of paper towards her.

The page was a little crumpled from where he had been gripping it tightly, but it didn't take her long to make out the two stick figures on the page. One was much taller than the other and had hair coloured with black crayon. The other had a scribble of yellow hair and both figures seemed to be under some kind of tent-like structure. In bright green crayon, traced over faint pencil writing which she recognised as JJ's, was the message "I love you, from Henry", followed by a row of misshapen kisses.

"Mommy says we can build a den again when you feel better," Henry explained, pointing to the structure he had drawn above them.

"If Emily wants to that is," JJ corrected her son, ruffling his hair.

"Do you?" Henry asked.

"Of course I do," Emily replied. "Thank you for the drawing – I love it," she smiled, trying to blink away the tears. She was sure she'd cried more in the past few weeks than she had in the rest of her life.

"Tonight?" Henry asked eagerly. Will and JJ laughed.

"Maybe not tonight," Emily chuckled. "But soon. I promise." Henry was a little quieter than normal, and he was reluctant to stray too far from his parents, but the knot in Emily's stomach loosened enough that she felt she could finally breathe as she realised that the same happy child remained.

"Why are you all crying?" the small boy asked, with a puzzled expression, as he looked from Emily's eyes to those of his parents.

"We're just really happy that everyone's safe," JJ explained, glancing towards her husband as Emily wrapped her arm around Henry.

Henry leaned closer to the woman, who was still his favourite grown-up after his parents, and returned her hug. He didn't really understand the concept of "happy tears" but for now he was willing to accept his mother's answer, because even at his young age, he understood that having his family together was something to be very happy about.


	27. Every December Sky

**A/N: So here we are at the final chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favourited this story, and to everyone else who has been reading. You really motivated me to keep writing the parts where I got stuck. Anyway, after 26 chapters of Emily and the others suffering, I thought this should have a lighter ending! I hope you enjoy it! :)**

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"Who would want to have a barbecue outside in December?" JJ complained, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them in the vain hope that she might get warm. She and Emily were sitting together in Rossi's garden, watching as Morgan, Will and Hotch argued over the best way to cook a steak.

"Me. It's safer than letting you lot inside my house," Rossi quipped with a weary grin, as the flame grew on the grill and Morgan, who had insisted on turning it up, jumped backwards to avoid singed eyebrows.

Emily chuckled as Hotch pushed Morgan aside and took charge of the barbecue and Morgan sheepishly stepped away and allowed his boss to cook the meat over a much lower flame.

"Do you need help with anything?" she asked Rossi. It seemed as though the rest of the team had all the food and drink under control but she felt she should offer.

"Not from you, cara. You are my guest of honour," he smiled, placing his hand on her arm and a fatherly kiss on her cheek.

Emily blushed a little. She knew the get together had been organised to celebrate her return to work, but she still aimed to avoid being the centre of attention for as much of the day as possible. They had returned from her first case back with the team a couple of days earlier and she had to admit that it had been difficult. She'd been out of the field for almost three months and was still finding her feet. Of course, the team were doing everything they could to help her settle back in, but all the same it was overwhelming.

"There you are!" JJ exclaimed, as Penelope crossed the patio towards them. "I was beginning to think you fell into the wine cellar!"

"I was sorting out a certain special surprise for a certain special person," she responded cryptically, setting the bottle and glasses she had retrieved on the table.

JJ smiled knowingly in response to Garcia's statement and the mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Rossi chuckled lightly before he slipped away.

"What surprise?" Emily asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh honey, you really don't understand the concept of a surprise, do you?" Garcia replied teasingly. "Just drink your wine and don't worry your pretty little head."

Emily accepted the glass which was offered to her, but maintained a slight scowl.

"Smile," JJ instructed with a laugh, elbowing her in the ribs. "Today is a happy day."

"Yes it is," Garcia agreed, linking her arm through Emily's and giving it a squeeze. Since Emily's rescue, she had been especially grateful for every minute they had spent with their friend and for every time she had seen a smile replace the profiler's troubled expression. And that was exactly why she was celebrating today.

/  
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After several drinks had been consumed and Jack and Henry had become suitably wound up by the atmosphere which surrounded the slightly intoxicated adults, someone had agreed to the boys' request for a game of soccer. Rossi had very quickly pointed out that as he was the host he should referee, leaving the others to pick their teams.

"We pick JJ," Will announced, after a whispered consultation with his teammate and son.

"That's not fair!" came a chorus of shouts from the others, as she took her place beside her husband and high fived Henry.

"Well if we're all gonna play soccer someone gets her on their team," Will pointed out with a shrug, though he didn't attempt to hide his grin.

"We want Derek!" Jack shouted, claiming the next favourite player for his and Hotch's team.

"Emily!" Henry and JJ called in unison.

"Beth!" Jack selected, grinning as his dad's girlfriend ran over to them and gave Hotch a quick kiss.

"Penelope!" Will shouted, following a nudge from his wife and from Emily.

Penelope squealed as she dashed across the lawn towards her two best friends. After a couple of glasses of wine the three were acting more like sorority sisters than members of the FBI.

"Why am I last picked?" Spencer complained, as he made his way over to Jack and Hotch's team. "It's just like high school."

"If we were playing chess you'd be my first pick," Emily offered, with a slight smirk.

"Pretty boy's gonna kill it," Morgan retaliated, slapping Reid on the back. "Right?"

"Ehh, right," Spencer mumbled, knowing there was a good reason he had never in his life been anything but the last choice for team sports.

"You think you have a chance at winning this?" JJ taunted, raising her eyebrows at Morgan.

"Bring it, Pennsylvania," he responded, as the two teams took their places on the makeshift pitch, with himself and JJ in the centre.

Rossi shook his head, placing the ball between them and producing a coin to decide who was to kick-off. He just knew this game was going to end badly.

"Heads!" JJ called, beating Morgan to making the choice.

Rossi tossed the coin and revealed that it had landed in Morgan's favour. His team cheered, while the others booed. Rossi rolled his eyes as he took a step backwards, away from Morgan and JJ, who were now jostling each other playfully but antagonistically.

"Play by the rules and remember there are children present," he instructed, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.

And with that he backed even further away from his colleagues and blew the whistle.

/  
/

Rossi's prediction was accurate and the game came to an abrupt end when Morgan's face had got in the way of one of JJ's powerful shots. It had been an accident and she has dropped all the taunting and apologised profusely. But that didn't mean there was any less blood.

"How's your nose?" Emily asked as Mogan approached the spot where she was sitting. It was now dark and while the others chattered noisily on the brightly lit patio, she had slipped further into the garden to take a moment to herself.

"Reid says it isn't broken," Morgan answered, removing the ice-pack to allow Emily to see the damage.

"You do know he isn't a medical doctor?" she responded dryly, though the corners of her mouth curled into a smile

"He knows more than me," Morgan shrugged, and Emily nodded and smiled. "You good?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just needed a minute," she replied.

Morgan sat down beside her, and noticed she was shivering slightly. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

"It's cold away from the patio heaters," he commented.

"Thanks," she smiled, pulling the jacket tightly around herself.

He returned her smile and nodded, and they fell into silence. From up on the patio the sound of laughter carried around the garden, and the fairy lights and candles only added to the festive atmosphere. The drinks were flowing and everyone was enjoying themselves, but he could still understand why she needed some time alone. Emily had been through so much in the past few months and he'd seen her doubt everything about herself. It couldn't have been easy to come back from that. And it couldn't be easy to be at the centre of everyone's happiness when she was still figuring herself out.

"I never thanked you," she said, unexpectedly, interrupting his thoughts.

"You just did," he replied.

"Not about the jacket; about that night. When you found me and you stayed with me."

He turned towards her and, even in the dark of the garden, saw the serious expression which coated her pale face.

"It was nothing," he assured her, placing his hand on her arm. Emily was his partner in the field and like another sister to him. He wouldn't have been anywhere else that night.

"I thought you were some kind of knight in shining armour, or superhero," she informed him, with the hint of a smile. "I didn't know what was going on, but I knew you'd protect me."

"You should know by now that I am a superhero," he joked, flexing his muscles, and she laughed.

"But really, thank you," she responded, her tone becoming serious.

He nodded, and they fell quiet once again as they both thought of Daniel Adams and of the long night in the hospital.

"We should probably get back to the others," Emily suggested after a few minutes had passed. "I know they have some kind of surprise planned." She rolled her eyes in reaction to the thought.

"It's a nice surprise," he assured her, agreeing that they should return, but as she stood up to head back to the patio he stopped her.

"What is it?" she asked, frowning slightly at his serious expression.

"You know I've always got your back, right?" he said. "Whatever happens; whatever's going on with you, I'm there."

She nodded and gently ran her hand over his, knowing that he meant every word.

"You too, Derek," she replied, hoping she'd never have to return the favour, but fully confident in the knowledge that she would. Not just for him but for any of the team.

/  
/

Not long after Emily and Morgan had rejoined the group, Garcia disappeared to fetch the surprise. Emily sat sipping her glass of wine and hoping that the spotlight wouldn't be on her for long. With her return to work she'd had a week that had been physically and emotionally draining, and while she was enjoying the evening with her friends, she'd rather have faded into the background.

After several minutes, Garcia returned with a book in her hands, and the group fell silent.

"We weren't sure if tonight was the right time to give you this," Rossi began. "But today is about celebrating having you back with us, so we decided it was appropriate."

Garcia passed the book towards Emily and she opened it, curiosity overtaking her hatred of the attention. She gasped as she saw the photo and read the words on the first page.

"It wasn't our idea," JJ explained, a little anxiously. "I hope it was OK for us to pass it on to you."

"It's from the girls themselves; from all the survivors," Garcia added. "They wanted to thank you for giving them their lives back."

The whole team watched Emily, trying to gauge her reaction as she flicked through the pages and saw messages from all of the surviving women who had been stalked by Adams, and from the family of those who hadn't been so lucky. Her eyes came to rest on one particular note.

_Nothing will ever bring my daughter back but I find comfort in knowing that other daughters are now safe. Your will to survive has prevented more pain than you will ever know. Remember this above all else._

_Anne Saunders._

Emily continued to gaze at the page as her eyes filled with tears of sorrow for the grieving mother and of gratefulness for her words.

"Emily, are you OK?" Spencer asked. He had been the most unsure about giving the book to Emily. He'd seen her at some of her most vulnerable points and he didn't want to do anything which could set back her recovery. "Emily?" he repeated, when she didn't respond.

"I'm fine," she assured him, with a tearful smile, and she placed the book down on the table. She'd read it properly at some other time. For now, it was enough to be surrounded by those that she loved, and to be reassured by the words of a stranger that what JJ continuously told her could be true. She was not a monster; she was a survivor.

"Good!" Garcia exclaimed excitedly. "Now it's time for my surprise." She grabbed hold of Morgan and dragged him off towards an area of the large garden into which she had disappeared earlier in the day when she was supposed to be fetching the wine.

"What does she have planned?" Emily asked, the look of suspicion returning to her face.

JJ simply gave her friend an apologetic look, while Rossi and Hotch tried to hide their smirks.

"Is it time for fireworks?" Henry asked sleepily, from where he had been dozing in Will's arms.

"Fireworks?" Emily exclaimed, her eyes widening with disbelief.

"Rossi told Garcia she could be his chief party planner," JJ explained with a shrug. "None of us could stop her once she got started."

At that moment they saw the spark from where Morgan had lit the charge on the first firework. Penelope rushed excitedly back towards the patio.

"To Agent Emily Prentiss," Rossi raised a toast, as bright light exploded across the sky. "Welcome back."

The others raised their glasses and Emily felt her face flush red once again, but she was surprised to find that the feeling of wanting the ground to swallow her didn't come. Instead, she found herself looking around at the faces of her closest friends. They all watched the fireworks with a lightness in their expressions that she realised she hadn't seen until today. And at that moment she realised that she too was free from the suffocating sense of unease that had, until recently, followed her everywhere that she went.

"Look at that one!" Jack exclaimed, pointing upwards as a gold Catherine Wheel spiralled into the sky.

Emily smiled as both Jack and Henry gasped and the bright lights reflected in their fascinated eyes. Her gaze then moved to Will and JJ, and Hotch and Beth. Both couples had drifted closer as they watched display and were holding hands or wrapped in one another's arms. Before the thought that she was standing alone even entered her mind, Garcia linked arms with her and she felt Spencer's long fingers wrap gently around her own.

And as she stood, with a friend on each side, and her family all around her she understood the purpose of the day. They were back together. They were happy. They were safe.

And that was as good a reason as any to celebrate. Fireworks and all.


End file.
